The Mishappen Tales of Two Inept Pirates
by Alteng
Summary: A story about Pintel and Ragetti, just in case you didn't think that they escaped. I have plans for many chapters of this story, so please R&R, and I'll return the favor
1. Default Chapter

A/N: Here it is at last! My first non-Dr. Who fanfiction! For those of you who have read these bits already, there are very few changes, and those are mostly typos and the whatnot. There are a few technical dicontinuities that I am taking care of. When I originally wrote this, Ragetti was not originally from Britain. Oh well, he is now. And the time constraints. I figure the raid that the Black Pearl, when Elizabeth was taken (first time) must be about two months to the end of the story. So, I may be full of it, but that is what Fanfiction is all about.  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned Pirates of the Caribbean, I wouldn't be writing this here, and you would be buying my books at Barnes and Noble for $6.95 a piece! But, since I don't own many folks in this story, you get to read it for free! I do own a few incidental folk, Estella, Lucy, and Marita . . . in the opposite order of appearance, and anyone else that might show up in the course of this story that you don't recognize.  
  
The Mishappen Tales of Two Inept Pirates  
  
Chapter 1: The Not So Great Escape  
  
The HMS Dauntless pulled into the harbor of Port Royal. The gathered crowd applauded and cheered. It had been announced in the Town Square that the proud ship and her crew were returning and apparently in victory. The brave commodore had chased down those ruthless pirates, and now the villains would be properly taken care of for their crimes against the town and the crown. It had been a long time since a good hanging took place in town. For the murders, destruction, and thievery, hanging was too good for them, but the British citizens here still observed the laws of England, and they were civilized. Besides, drawing and quartering was such a messy job.  
  
The gangplank was lowered, and the Governor Swann and Commodore Norrington appeared at the top. The people cheered again. The young men admired the brave Commodore and wished to live up to his grandeur. The women swoon, because he was so handsome (and rich). The governor's daughter was all the envy of these young women. How could she refuse such a dashing 26-year-old gentleman?  
  
Norrington's face flushed with embarrassment. The migraine he was nursing was not much help either. The crowd called for a speech. He hated to make speeches. His tongue always felt tied, and he feared he looked remarkably stupid when he spoke. His stomach did some amazing squishing about, and he felt worse than when he found out exactly what he was eating at one of those natives' parties. Speeches were more of the governor's job, but unfortunately, they wanted his words. He had gone on a rescue mission . . . one too many in his opinion. He was only concern with Elizabeth's safety. That lousy little blacksmith could take care of himself. Men just didn't go out and rescue other men in distress. What kind of fop was this Will Turner anyway!! Oh well, at least it did lead to the capture of the raiding pirates and that slippery Jack Sparrow. In a way, it was a shame that Sparrow had to be such an unsavory sort. He would have made an excellent naval officer. He did seem to have some sort of honor, but he knew that the first time the man did some crazy off the wall off the book type of thing, the Commodore would have to knock him in the head and throw him in the brig for mutiny. That brought all these things back to square one.  
  
It took nearly an hour for all the formalities and what not to get over with. Finally, it was time to move the prisoners off the ship to their new less cozy temporary quarters. The illustrious Captain Jack Sparrow was at the head of the line. He staggered and swaggered his way along, and he didn't miss a thing or a chance to flirt with a woman or two in the audience. A wink and a smile said tons of things that his escort would not allow him to put to words. He paused at one exceptional beauty, who was all of 16 summers. He took her delicate hands in his chained and shackled hands.  
  
"Oh, ma cherie, what say I show ye 'bouts the town and take ye on one those rare sea voyages and beyond Saturday night?"  
  
The guard smacked him in the head and pushed him onward from the blushing girl. "Can't ye let a doomed man 'ave 'is way a bit and appreciate the fine beauty of youth?"  
  
The guards weren't amused. "You aren't likely to be keeping that date Saturday night," one of the guards answered cryptically.  
  
"Och! What a bunch of pessimist ye bunch are!" Sparrow replied as he was moved on.  
  
The crowds were most enthused with the assumed captain of the pillaging pirates of two months ago. Well, he sort of was their captain at one time. The other prisoners came along quietly. It had been ten years since this kind of threat held any kind of meaning for them. Not to mention, it had been ten years since they had had a decent meal, and they were inclined to be a bit of gluttons those first few nights, and the bellies had many an objection to such abuse.  
  
The parade of prisoner was arranged by the most powerful to the most useless of the pirates, with appropriate guards to each. The better men of His majesty's Navy were gathered about the more capable pirates. Norrington and Gillette with three more of the Commodore's more trusted men were gathered about the illustrious Captain. All except Sparrow were chained together in pairs as they were marched down the streets. So, therefore, no one noticed in the procession that the party was two short on either the pirates' side or the guards' side. The end of the parade was to be brought up by the tall red haired officer of Martog and his rotund companion of Mulroy, escorting the two lesser known pirates of the crew the tall lanky one eyed known as Tony Ragetti especially by his mum on his good days, ( . . . discussion of his other names would not allow for a PG-13 rating on this story . . .) and his equally roguish smaller rounder fellow known, (see above description for Ragetti) as Henry Eugene Pintel. All involved were still aboard the Dauntless in a not so noble position. Mulroy and Martog were leaning heavily on their bayonets and snoring loudly. One of the ship's clean up crew happened by the foursome, and gave them a curious look. The guards stood up, somewhat, and the pirates were on the deck. Ragetti's hands were on parts of Pintel's body, where no male hands should fall on a fellow pirate and the owner hope to keep them. Pintel, for his part, was giggling lecherously and mumbled out some name like Mandy or could have been Candy. The cleaner smirked and bashed the guards with the mop. Martog and Mulroy were instantly awake and stood at attention.  
  
It only took the guards a few moments to take stock of where they were and their prisoners were not at attention with them. Martog and Mulroy glanced down at the pair on the deck at their feet. Martog's face turned redder than his hair, and Mulroy was not to be out done on the bloodrush. The two guards simultaneously cleared their throats, and acting as if they had seen nothing, gave the prisoner a sound kick. The two pirates immediately noticed their compromising position and pulled away from each other as if one had some kind of vermin the other didn't share. The chains on their wrists went taunt and bounced them back into each other's arms.  
  
Ragetti gave him a stupid grin. Pintel was not amused and smacked him on the back of the head. "I dunno what ye be thinkin', boy, but it ain't gonna involve me!"  
  
Martog and Mulroy cleared their throats again. They urged the prisoners forward. The final prisoner escort was finally atop the gangplank. Oh well, better late than never. The four of them looked down on the empty streets.  
  
"Criminy!" Martog remarked, "Where'd everyone go?"  
  
"Mebbe they be 'aving a fish fry or something like that," Pintel suggested, "Tis Friday and all, ye know."  
  
"And we di'n't get invited! Bugger it all!" complained Ragetti, "You know, we Brits have the best fish'n chips!"  
  
Pintel gave him a sidelong condescending look. "Don't ye think ye e't 'nough last night?"  
  
His fellow pirate shrugged. "It 'ad been ten years since me last meal!" he complained, "Gotta make up for lost time, ye know."  
  
"Right, the two of you, shut your mouths!' Mulroy ordered, "Where you be going, ye won't be worrying about no grub!"  
  
"What! Ye ain't gonna be feeding us! I demand prisoner's rights and all that stuff!" Ragetti complained.  
  
"Oh hush!" Mulroy ordered.  
  
The prisoners grumbled, but the guards urged them through the quiet streets. After a couple of blocks, Ragetti began to squirm and turned to Martog with an urgent pressing message. "I've gotta go," he complained.  
  
"I'm certain you do," the red haired guard returned.  
  
"No, I means real bad!"  
  
Mulroy getting the hint grimaced exasperated as he understood the pirate's meaning. "Why didn't you go back at the ship!" he growled.  
  
"I didn't 'ave to then," he replied. Mulroy rolled his eyes.  
  
Pintel just shrugged. "Ain't not'in' I can do 'bout it."  
  
"You'll just have to wait til we get to the fortress," Mulroy answered.  
  
"I don't think it will 'old that long! I really gotta go bad!" Ragetti answered with the proper wriggling and such. Because Pintel was chained to him, he was being yanked around in an uncomfortable way. The smaller pirate gave the chain a good jerk to settle him down.  
  
"Ye'll 'ave to wait," Mulroy insisted.  
  
"I can't!" the prisoner insisted.  
  
"I ain't gonna to remain chained to 'im if 'e goes in his drawers. 'E stinks bad 'nough as it is!" Pintel complained.   
  
"Oh, let him go in the bushes," Martog remarked.  
  
Mulroy made some derogatory remarks, but the small party pulled off the road to some of the greenery lining the town. The two guards moved to escort them, but Ragetti turned to them. "Can't a feller get any privacy to take care of business?"  
  
"You're our prisoners. You think we're daft enough to let you out of our sights?"  
  
"'Ey! It's a private moment!" the prisoner returned, "I don't watch ye relieve yerself, now do I?"  
  
The two guards looked at each other and shrugged. "Oh, get to it!" Martog complained.  
  
Pintel crossed him arms in defiance, but he felt the yank of the chain, and was pulled into the shrubbery also, but Martog was quick enough to grabbed the pirate by the collar and pull him back out.  
  
"Where so you think you're going?" he demanded.  
  
"We are rather connected, ye know!" the captive complained.  
  
The smaller pirate soon disappeared in the bushes with his partner. The guards looked at each other and shrugged. They waited a few moments, but the two did not emerge. Mulroy was getting tired of this. How long did it take the man to empty his bladder! He poked his bayonet into the greenery, but it made no contact with anything but leaves and branches.  
  
He cursed and went into the bushes followed by Martog. There was no pirates to be seen.  
  
Mulroy cursed, and Martog grimaced. "I guess we won't be getting that promotion now." 


	2. Chapter 2: The Chain Gang

Chapter 2: The Chain Gang  
  
The two escaped pirates scurried across the vast greenery with the eating aching urgency that the situation called for, and Ragetti had an even more pressing problem weighing heavily on his mind or more precisely on his bladder. Although being as dense as they were, it did not take them long to realize that they had lost their courtesy guards . . . and themselves. They soon dropped down in a cove of trees and were gasping for their breath. They leaned up against either side of a sturdy palm tree. It had been a long time since either of them felt the need to run from an enemy muchless draw breath. So, their bodies had to get used to the idea again. After all, they were not the type of pirates that could meet an enemy eye to eye, (and Ragetti would much rather not since he had only one real eye left, and he intended on keeping it). They were more of the snatch and grab and run away back to the ship while everyone else was still fighting. There had been many advantages to being undead.  
  
It did not take long for the pressures of escape and the breath to be recaptured for Ragetti before his other pressures made itself well known. He stood up from the tree and spotted a proper bush. He didn't get far, considering the fact that he was still firmly attached by an one foot chain to Pintel's wrist. The smaller rounder and older pirate, not having recovered as quickly as his companion (and not having that particular pressing problem), gave Ragetti a withering look.  
  
"What in the name of the seven 'Ells are ye tryin' to do now, you numbskull?" he complained.  
  
"I told ye. I gotta go, and NOW!!" Pintel grumbled some not so nice pirate language not suitable for most audiences, and he pulled himself up. Ragetti made his way to the bush like a man with a purpose. The older pirate, exasperated, had no choice but to follow.  
  
"Some privacy, if ye don't be mindin'!" the taller pirate complained.  
  
Pintel gave him a firm yank to the connecting chain and crossed his arms. He glared up at his taller companion. "And pray, where can I be going if we're chained together, you twit!"  
  
Ragetti acquired one of those blank looks that he was so good at and mouthed, "Oh."  
  
So, after only a few awkward moments and a couple of crude unnecessary comments from Pintel about miniatures, Ragetti finally got the relief he so needed. The two pirates came to the firm unmovable conclusion that they needed to find their way out of this jungle and back to civilization to get separated before one or the other was hauling the other's not so lively or not so undead corpse around.  
  
Now most people could find their way out of this bit of greenery fairly easy, because it was not that dense. In fact, it was that bit of greenery that grows behind and between the buildings that face out onto the busy streets. After all, the port empty well into the city. Of course, most people could count to ten with their gloves off. No one could accuse Pintel and Ragetti of being most people. Pintel, confident in his fine sense of direction, led Ragetti around the rough terrain for nearly an hour. Even the not so subtle sounds of the busy streets of Port Royal were enough of a hint of the proper direction or where they actually were.  
  
Finally, hunger, thirst, and exhausted frustration won out, and the two escaped prisoners collapsed under some shrubbery. They were too tired to even blame each other for their present predicament. They may have dozed in the midday heat or they just lost track of time. Ragetti sat up suddenly as if out of a dream with a thoughtful look on his face (a very rare occurrence indeed!). He sniffed the air as does a rabbit that is seeking enemies.  
  
"I smell bread!" he commented.  
  
"Of all the men I have had the misfortune of meeting, ye are the one with the greatest abyssal pit of a stomach! I know there ain't much room up there between yer ears, but can't ye be thinkin' of something other than food all the time!"  
  
"I ain't kiddin', Pintel. I smell bread a-cooking," he insisted, as he continued to sniff the air.  
  
"Bread don't cook, ye bloody idiot. It bakes," Pintel growled.  
  
"Oh, come on. It beats bein' lost," Ragetti pointed out, "Just 'ave a sniff."  
  
"I ain't fallin' for that one! There be no way I be sniffin' the air downwind of ye! Ye haven't had a bathing in ten years and countin'!" Nevermind the fact that neither had he.  
  
Ragetti didn't care. His belly calleth, and he followeth. Pintel, being quite fond of his hand, had no choice but to follow his determined companion. Sense of direction may not have been one of their strong points (their odor won that one), but Ragetti's stomach was not about to steer them wrong. He still had a lot of work to do to make up for the last ten years to his internal organs. His stomach came first with the food, then later, he would take care of his liver with the rum. So, under the guidance of the half blind, they found themselves at the back yard of a bakery. Outside there was a pile of firewood for the oven and the stereo-typical ax in the stump.  
  
Pintel's eyes lit up. A divorce from his present partner was now in order. Ragetti, having a hard enough time keeping track of his own thoughts, certainly didn't follow Pintel's thoughts. (He was often better off for it!) The smaller pirate gave a firm yank to the chain and artfully avoiding a good squashing experience from his fellow. He pointed to the ax, then he pointed to the chain links between their wrists. Ragetti looked confused. Things were back to normal.  
  
"We can take the ax and break the chains with it, you nit!" he explained slowly and carefully.  
  
"Oh," replied the other as he nodded.  
  
Pintel hefted the ax unsteadily in his right hand. He raised it clumsily, as Ragetti's hand raised with his. It didn't help that Pintel's hands were chained together by only a foot of chain. It didn't help matters any that one foot chain was all the leeway between the two men, and it was not enough give for a proper swing, and the aim was really of the most unsteady type. Of course, Pintel couldn't hit the ocean with the ship's daily sewage on one of his better days. There was little wonder why the Black Pearl was such a pig's sty when Captain Sparrow got it back.   
  
Feeling more than a little bit of misgivings about his position, Ragetti cried out, "Wait!"  
  
"What?" complained Pintel, as he lowered the ax, before he did serious injury to his companion or himself, "Ye haven't gone yeller belly on me, now have ye?"  
  
"Well, not exactly . . . well, mebbe," the taller pirate answered nervously, "I mean, I already got a wooden eye and all. I don't want a wooden hand to be going with it. If this keeps up, I will end up as a major termite feeding ground."  
  
"Now, now. Who's ever heard of a pirate with a wooden hand. It be more like a metal hook," soothed the ax wielder.  
  
"I ain't feelin' any better 'bout this!" returned the potential victim.  
  
"Oh, just suck it up and be a man 'bout it!"  
  
Pintel raised the ax and stumbled a bit. Ragetti closed his eyes tight and clenched his teeth tight. The ax was suddenly yanked from the smaller swarthy pirate's hand. Pintel uttered a none too kindly sea dog type of word, that shouldn't have been used in mixed company, and mixed company was exactly what it was. Feeling the shift of the weight, Ragetti opened his right wooden eye, and he saw nothing but darkness. Then he opened the other eye. Seeing the woman behind the confused Pintel, he let out a heavy sigh of relief. He gave her a completely unconvincing innocent smile.  
  
A woman in her late twenties with short cropped dark hair and matching dark eyes, that said that she had seen a might too much of the rough life of Port Royal, stood behind Pintel. She wore a flour covered dress and apron, and her burn scarred arms were also covered with the flour as if she had been making the bread that Ragetti smelled at this late hour of the day. She held the ax in her hands, and she had a no nonsense stern look on her face.  
  
Pintel turned about slowly and held his hands up in yield. Ragetti, having no options left in the matter, due to the chains between them, did the same. 


	3. Chapter 3: Whips and Chains and Mary Lou

Chapter 3: Whips and Chains and Mary Lou  
  
"What are you two scoundrels doing in my backyard?" she demanded, as she lowered the ax to the ground. The two pirates simultaneously let go of the breath they were both holding. The woman placed the ax on its head and leaned into its handle.  
  
"Uh . . .?" answered Ragetti intelligently as usual. Although unsure as to how to answer her, he was vastly relieved that Pintel no longer wielded the ax.  
  
"Well, ma'am," the other took up to fill in the empty space left by his companion. He looked into those deep dark brown eyes that spelled out all business. Unfortunately, neither pirate could read. Trying to be sharp on his feet, the smaller pirate started the wheels turning in his head. They made an awful clamor between his ears from the lack of use and caused him a dreadful headache. He swallowed hard. It would be the noose or maybe sausage sandwiches ( he thought as he eyed that ax in the woman's hand) depending upon her reaction to his story.  
  
"Well, out with it, you scum! I haven't got all day! I do have a business to run."  
  
"Well . . . uh . . ." Ragetti began with a light flash of inspiration. (It burned up some of the dust between his ears and some ear hairs in the process.) "We are trying to get out of these here chains, and Pintel, here, 'e's saw yer ax and all. So, 'e was obliged to . . .uh . . . try to . . . uh . . . chop through 'em."  
  
"And why are you in chains in the first place?" she asked cannily.  
  
Pintel and Ragetti looked at each other with blank confused expressions. The taller pirate shrugged. He had already did his bit in the dialogue and offered up his bit of valuable information. It was Pintel's turn. The smaller older pirate rolled his eyes.  
  
"A lot of 'elp ye are, mate!" He griped.  
  
"Well!" insisted their hostess.  
  
"Well, we were with a travellin' circus, ye see . . ." Pintel started, as he was reminded of some things that his ex and no longer so undead captain Barbosa had once told them. The smaller pirate elbowed Ragetti before he could open his mouth to ask what circus and state that he didn't remember any circus. "We are a pair of escape artists, but we lost the keys, you see. I think me companion 'ere may 'ave swallowed 'em."  
  
"I'm a bit of an enemy and me needs me iron," Ragetti replied with a crooked smile.  
  
She gave him a most peculiar look of disgust.  
  
"You mean anemone, you twit!" Pintel replied in his all knowing manner, (it was the most special word he knew) and gave a solid yank to the chain.  
  
"Nah! I ain't meaning anemone! I've e't an anemone before! Blagh! It did nuttin' fer me stomach! I think I lost it o'er the Pearl!" Ragetti replied with a kind of greenish look about him.  
  
"You ain't no enemy neither, you boob!" the elder replied with a whack to the taller pirate's head. For a man, who had rather rotten aim with everything else, he had accomplished quite feat with shackled hands. Ragetti nearly removed his nose and an ear in the process of his chainmate's aim for the back of his head, and the tall gaunt pirate got a three handed hit, because of the short chain.  
  
With all things considered and with the force that Pintel's hand (plus two more hands), Ragetti's wooden eye chose this particular moment to pop out. It had been a good long time (two chapters, in fact) since the naughty orb did its thing, and its mischief was finally up and at them again. After all, Ragetti was out of the worse dangers and pressing problems, and it would never due to be a wooden eye to a real corpse. Corpses didn't tend to give much of a chase to much of anything, muchless a wooden eye.  
  
Ragetti fell for the bait hook, line and sinker, pardon the cliche. Although being in a tangle with Pintel and an irate proprietor standing by with large sharp object in hand, Ragetti was able to go after the impish false body part. The older smaller cohort got dragged along for the chase, bashed into a couple of rocks, thrown into a rather prickly thorny bush (with more of that colorful vocabulary flowing from his lips) and finally being bashed into a barrel of water, that was set to catch the water from the gutter, thus destroying it in the process. Oh well, they both needed a bath anyway. Luckily, the one eyed pirate managed to make a siding catch of the wooden eye before he slipped and fell face down in the mud.  
  
"Are you two vagrants properly done?" the woman demanded. If either of them had not been otherwise occupied they would have pondered whether they knew what "vagrant" meant and if it applied to them. "I have half a mind to call the law in here on you." At least, she had half a mind to spare, unlike her two uninvited guests, who didn't have half a mind combined.  
  
Ragetti managed to sit up with his legs stretched out with his prize in hand. Pintel remained face down in the mud. Oh well, he was still cleaner than before the flood. Angry bubbles popped up to the surface. It was best that the woman didn't hear what he was calling Ragetti at the moment.  
  
"I'll give you one more chance to explain yourselves, and I had better like your answer this time!" she growled.  
  
Pintel pushed himself up from the mud bath and spat out a wad of it. He shook his head like a wet dog, showering his already wet partner. Ragetti just smiled dumbly and shrugged as normal. He was content to have his wooden eye in hand.  
  
"Well, ma'am, ye see," Pintel began, "we didn't want to be tellin' ye this 'n' all, with ye being a lady, but ye, see, we were down at the flop house, and ye see, Mary Lou, she be 'avin' a thing for whips and chains. Ragetti and me, well, we don't go fer that kinda thing, so . . . "  
  
Ragetti looked up at the mention of his name. His one pale blue eye grew wide, and his face turned an amazing shade of red. He swallowed hard and turned his gaze downwards and coughed a bit.   
  
"If you were spending time with the ladies of pleasure, why are you still fully clothed?" the woman demanded.  
  
"Uh . . ." replied Pintel, "She's a bit kinky, ye know."  
  
"I'm getting the red coats in here," she replied, "You had best be out of my backyard by the time I return, because I'm certain you are wanted men. There was a parade of pirates earlier today, and you are more than likely escapees from that group. It gives me even less confidence in their abilities to uphold the law that they allow two idiots such as yourselves to escape."  
  
"Please wait, ma'am!" Ragetti cried out, "If they gets us again, we will be hanged fer sure! Not sayin' we don't deserves it and all, but, me and Pintel here, we would like to do a bit more livin', ye see . . . and besides, it be me birthday and all. You can't be killin' a feller on 'is birthday. That wouldn't be very nice."  
  
She glared at them. Pintel forced a crooked smile, and Ragetti continued to try that ineffective look of innocence, that was even less effective with his empty right eye socket. She blew out an exasperated breath with her decision and shoved the ax against the building. She mumbled some incoherent words, if heard, the pair wouldn't get anyway, as she approached them. She pulled the chain up between them and shook her head. She pulled a couple of bobby pins from her hair. Pintel felt relief flush through his body in more than one way. No one knew the difference, since he was already wet and smelly. Ragetti took the moment to pop his wooden eye, mud and all, back into place.  
  
The woman worked on the locks with the expertise that would have surprised the two men, if they had not been so otherwise overjoyed by the strange positive turn of events. It only took a few minutes for her to break open the locks and free the prisoners. The two pirates sat on the ground and rubbed their free wrists. It was good to be free again. The tightening that each felt in their throats had now loosened, and they could breath more freely. Of course, the smell of wet pirate was not exactly fresh air. Ragetti wanted to cry with relief, but that might mean that he would have to chase after that ornery orb again, and he really didn't feel like it at the moment.  
  
Pintel rose to his feet and made an elegant bow to the woman. "How can we e'er be able to repay ye for this service, ma'am?" he offered as the self proclaimed leader of the pair.  
  
"You can take a bath for starts," she answered as she wrinkled up her nose. The wind had shifted her downwind of them.  
  
"Och! Out of the Fryin' pan into the Fire!" Ragetti exclaimed. 


	4. Chapter 4: The Baker, the Pirate, and th...

A/N:Thank you, thank you, hugs and kisses, (Well, at least the hugs, since most of you are also girls!) folks for the wonderful reviews. I want so for this story to do alright, because I am enjoying these characters so much. I'm not really sure where they are going, but neither are they.  
  
For those of you, who have read this piece and have not reviewed, please do so. I accept anon reviews, but if you have an account with FF, I will happily read your stuff and leave reviews.  
  
To Japas the Bassist aka Ragetti's Girl, Pintel got the name Eugene, so there could be a reference to "Careful with that Axe, Eugene". A very old Pink Floyd piece. And you need to write some more!!  
  
Les MisLooney, Alyak, and Wdbydoglvr, I will be getting your updates soon. And thank you again for reviewing!  
  
And I really should proof read before I post!! Anyway, this has been reposted after proofing.  
  
Chapter 4: The Baker, the Pirate and the Bodice Maker  
  
The wind shifted and died out altogether to the great relief of the woman's most insulted olfactories. She breathed in a sizeable lungful of the fresh air available before she motioned for the recently freed prisoners to the direction of the bath. The tall one eyed pirate got up and moved his right hand to wipe the mud from his face. He only succeeded in muddying his face further. He went to wipe his hands on the tatters of his mud soaked shirt, but it was of no use. He grimaced and turned towards Pintel, whose shirt was just as dirty. Somehow, sensing what was on the other's mind, the smaller pirate gave him a withering condescending glare, that said in simple English, "Stay the bloody hell away from me, you feebleminded cretin!". Strangely enough, Ragetti got it. The younger pirate only shrugged and smeared his muddy hands on his equally muddy pants. Pintel blew out a disgusted breath.  
  
"Come on, you two. I have a legitimate business to run," the woman complained. Pintel's brows furrowed. She was using those big words again. She pointed insistently in the direction of the bath.  
  
The smaller man moved passed her and turned on her with a smirk. "Don't ye think that introductions be in order, my lady? I'd like to know who's orderin' me 'bouts."  
  
The frigid stare from her was enough to draw icicles to the palm trees. "And I'd like to know who is invading my backyard," she replied. Her dark eyes narrowed on the squat little man. "Go ahead, introduce yourself."  
  
"I asked first, love," he returned insistently. He cocked his head up at her and squinted his right eye. "I always like to know the name of the woman I drop me pants fer."  
  
Ragetti turned a shocking shade of white visible beneath the mud and dirt. He choked uncomfortably and swallowed that irritating growing lump in his throat. If looks could kill, then Pintel would have been in several large chunks on a spittle and roasting over an open fire from this intense gracious glare. This made the smaller man all the more proud of his grand achievement.  
  
Ragetti swallowed down the second lump in his throat. This one hit his stomach harder than the dish that time some years ago that Bo'sun made. It was one of his ethnic specialties, that contained parts of a monkey that no one should ever touch muchless eat. Ragetti was not feeling too well even before he asked what was in it.  
  
"I'm Tony Ragetti," he prompted in the effort to make amends for his peculiar companion. He offered his muddy hand to the stoic woman.  
  
She looked down on the offer, and her upper lip twitched with distaste. Self conscious of his own dirt, he pulled his hand back. His mud covered face turned a shade of brighter red than when he turned back human and had that irritating ten year sun burn. Luckily, his skin was now a dark tan and the peeling had stopped, but for some reason the itching was returning. But, back to the problem at hand. He shifted his weight uneasily from foot to foot and nodded to his companion. "And me friend 'ere, 'e be 'Enry Eugene Pintel. 'E's been me best friend since I was a wee little tyke. Well, I was a tad bit shorter than 'im when we met. I was 14 then and still 'ad a bit of growin' to do, ye see, and 'e got a bit shorter and all . . ."  
  
"That's all fine and well ye tellin' 'er yer 'ole life story and all, me boy," Pintel grumbled, "But since ye be so bloody formal with me own name, ye should be just as formal with yer own name, don't cha think, Anthony?"  
  
Ragetti looked confused. (What else is new!) "Tony is me proper name. Mum always thought that Anthony was a daft name, but da wanted one of 'is boys named after 'im. So, she named me Tony to keep 'im quiet."  
  
"That's not the only thing daft 'round 'ere," the other remarked.  
  
"Enough foolishness," the woman cried out. "If you must know, I am Marita Schmidt. I own this bakery, and while you stay here, and I might add, work here, you may call me Mrs. Schmidt."  
  
"Uh . . ." the two pirates said together as they turned a whiter shade of pale and their eyes opened wide. Ragetti conveniently caught his wooden eye before it led him on another roll about in the yard.  
  
Bracing himself, Pintel answered, "It may be just safer if we just be safer if we be just callin' ye Mrs. Marita, if it be all the same to ye, love."  
  
She glared down on him, and the icy stare made him shrink down further on his already bowed legs. A look of a terrified half drowned sea rat, caught in the corner by Charlie, the ship's big orange tabby, appeared on his face. She sighed regretfully and backed off. "As you please," she relented.  
  
The pins and needles withdrew, and the pirates relaxed. She ushered them to the bath. As the two men argued over who would be the first victim of the brush, she left them to fetch the water. They didn't notice her departure, as their heated argument reached its height. Finally, they came to the only option left to them. They would settle this like the men they were. They went into a heated competition of rock, paper, scissors. Pintel, losing six out of eight tries, was graciously volunteered for the first bath. The smaller and fouler mouthed man mumbled some more of that colorful pirate language he knew.  
  
Ragetti looked up and saw Marita carrying two large buckets of water for the bath. Although a simpleton and a curd, he was kind of a gentleman at heart, well . . . sometimes . . ., well, he was usually considerate to women . . . well, when he wasn't exactly an undead cursed pirate and he was trying to show off to the bigger meaner cursed undead pirates. He left his gloating over his victory against Pintel to help her with her burden. Pintel didn't notice. He just continued to growl about his bad luck and accused Ragetti of cheating and other left unsaid things. The woman narrowed her dark eyes up at the aiding pirate, but the warning completely went over his head. Ragetti, for being such a tall fellow, often found many things over his head.  
  
"'Ere, ma'am, let me 'elp ye with those," he happily offered.  
  
Pintel, finally noticing the absence of his audience, glance up at his friend's words. He frowned. "Ye sadist!" (The biggest fanciest word he knew! It was taught to him by his wife back in the home country on many of an occasion) he growled, "Ye been 'round Barbosa too damn long!" (Barbosa helped with the definition of that word, too).  
  
Ragetti had other things on his mind other than his grouchy foul mouthed sore loser of a companion. To add the list of Pintel's complaints to his agenda at the moment would have been just too much for Ragetti's simple mind to deal with. So, he ignored the smaller irate pirate and wrapped his hands around the handles of the buckets touching her delicate hands. He felt his heart in his throat. Damn, he thought, too much junk had been gathering there in the last day! Marita pulled away from the touch of his warm rough mud covered hands.  
  
"I don't need a fool of a man to help me," she sneered angrily at him.  
  
"Uh," Ragetti answered intelligently as usual. He swallowed his heart back down to its proper place. "I only mean to 'elp. I mean well. Ye are tryin' to 'elp us and all, and I be grateful fer yer rescue and getting us out of chains, ye know. Pintel, 'e's grateful, too. 'E just don't show it much."  
  
He did not let go of the buckets, and his heart continued to pound. When in doubt, he gave a big toothy (although he had his fare share of rotten teeth, and they were nothing to show off to impress a lady) innocent smile, which was quite good considering the images of Marita his imagination was coming up with at the moment. The woman blew out an exasperated breath and let the full weight of the buckets fall into his hands. With the sudden weight unloaded on him, the tall pirate fell face forward and found his sight full of the things preying on his mind and his nose in her bodice. He felt all the heat of his blood rush to his face right before her delicate fist impacted to his jaw, and he found himself in a blissful state of unconsciousness.  
  
There was no more argument from Pintel and that date with the tub. He turned to Marita and asked, "Would ye be 'avin' a miniature wooden sail boat?"  
  
She shoved the buckets into his hands without another word. She, then, turned and marched off to her own business.  
  
A/N; Poor Ragetti! What did he do to deserve this! 


	5. Chapter 5: Two Gentlemen and a Monkey

Chapter 5 already, and I'm still on the same day! Oh my! Anyway, I promise eventually they will do something of significance. Please, let me know your out there and review. Any suggestions are gratefully accepted and considered. I have about plans for about 10 chapters at the bakery. Trust me, they can find trouble there.  
  
Chapter 5: Two Gentlemen and a Monkey  
  
Pintel shook out his stringy wet greying blonde hair. He may have been balding in a way that receding hair line was a vast understatement, but what hair he did have left to him hung down to his shoulders like ribbons of wet noodles. He shrugged on one of the bathrobes that Marita had left for him and Ragetti, and he admired himself in the full length mirror for a few moments. The elegant bathrobe suited him well, although it would have been far more elegant had it been on a man of more height and width in places where the pirate was lacking. The short man nodded to his reflection. He knew he was enough of a fine man to make the women weep . . . well, some of the women would have wept, but not for the reasons he was thinking.  
  
Deciding that his companion, who was still sprawled out in a most unusual awkward position, had slacked off on the job long enough and avoided the inevitable for far too long, Pintel stepped over the taller pirate's prone body carefully and grabbed him under the arms and dragged him to the tub. It was high time that Ragetti took his just punishment for his crimes against the clean air. So, with some interesting maneuvers not thought possible of the not exactly graceful pirate, he managed to get his fully clothed companion into the tub of dirty, soapy, and quite cold bath water head first, followed by his long legs. Ragetti immediately woke up. He sputtered and spewed and sat up quickly, throwing water everywhere. Pintel ran for cover. He had bathed once. That was enough for the next ten years. Finding his companion's wooden eye by way of his bare foot and falling on his behind, he picked it up and flipped it across the room to the wooden bathtub. Well, Marita did hit him rather hard, and Pintel had no need of the false appendage once he found it.  
  
After a little while, Ragetti was bathed and dressed himself without a second thought as to where the clothes came from. Pintel had been busy parading about in his underwear and bathrobe. He eyed the folded clothes suspiciously, but he needed to be dressed. The lack of attire would never due. Too many ladies fainting from his exposure, he was sure. Well, that was kind of true. The shirts were far too big for either one of them. The length fitted Ragetti well, but the previous owner was wider through the shoulders and stouter through the body. Pintel frowned down at his clothes. They were loose in all the wrong places and were rather tight in the waist and around the belly. The sleeves covered his hands and the pants dragged the floor. He shrugged. He would just have to tuck the pants in his boots after he fixed his sleeves. He fiddled about with the cuff links for a good quarter of an hour before he decided to just give up. He shrugged and tied a knot in each cuff.   
  
Ragetti had no better luck with the cuff links, so he just copied Pintel's lead and tied knots at the end of the sleeves. He tried to tie his tie, but he didn't have much success. Pintel looked up at him and shook his head in disgust, as the taller pirate entangled and tied to his fingers into the mess. The smaller man blew out an exasperated breath. He uttered an appropriate curse for the occasion, and he untied the mess and his companion. He swatted Ragetti's hands away as he tied the tie in a big floppy bow. He stood back and nodded his approval of a job well done.  
  
"What would ye e'er do without me, mate?" he commented.  
  
"Uh . . ." replied Ragetti, as he thoughtfully scratched the back of his neck.  
  
"Exactly," prompted Pintel pointedly, as he was feeling rather itchy himself.  
  
As Ragetti combed out his badly cut hair, he noticed the bottles on the counter. He pondered their use, as he absently scratched his side. He put the comb aside and chose one particularly pretty bottle. He sniffed at it and squeezed the dispenser ball on the end, effectively squirting himself in the face. He grimaced and spat out the foul tasting substance from his mouth. He shrugged, then he sprayed his coat. Enjoying the lovely scent, he decided that he needed to share it with his companion. So, he sprayed Pintel, who was having other clothing problems.   
  
For such a little fellow, Pintel had feet that would do sasquatch proud. His feet were his third biggest asset (fourth, if you asked him personally). His feet were followed by his sizeable gut, and his mouth won out for first place. After being quite unsuccessful with the new boots, he opted for his worn tattered ten year old boots, that he had purchased begrudgingly with the curse Aztec gold. Oh well, they were in better shape than his previous pair, that were older than Ragetti, and the toes had worn out when the two had met. He claimed that they were just broke in at that time. When the soles fell off, and Barbosa had threatened to stuff their remains in an entirely uncomfortable place on the short stubby pirate, Pintel protested but yielded to buy the present pair of boots, that hadn't left his feet since that day until today. He dipped them in the well used bath water to clean off the mud, both outside and in, after pouring the water out, he put them on. By the third or fourth spray from his now aromatic companion's bottle, he pulled away from the other completely and utterly insulted.  
  
"Whatcha think ye be doin'? I don't know 'bout ye sometimes, boy. Perfume is fer those sissy funn' fellers! Ye remember that feller Rogers. 'E hauled off and kissed the capt'n that time after we went and dumped off Sparrer, then 'e turned 'bouts and goosed 'im. Barbosa din't take too kindly to that. Strapped that pack of dynamite to 'im and catapulted 'im off the ship to the crew's round of applause."  
  
"'E did go out with a bang," Ragetti remarked with a cheerful grin.  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Made the sharks awfully 'happy, too, but it took fore'er to get the pieces of 'im out of the ship! Anyways, I ain't like that. Just 'cause ye got me in one of those fancy dresses of Miss Swann's don't mean anything!"  
  
"Aye, but better to bein' caught in Miss Swann's dresses than bein' on the bloody receivin' end of Koehler's fist," the younger pirate pointed out, "Besides, ye were right pretty in that dress."  
  
The older man snatched the perfume bottle away from him and put it back on the counter. "I don't know about ye, boy. When we get ourselves out of this mess, I'm going' to take ye to Tortuga and get ye a real woman to set ye right!"  
  
"Mum used to say all proper gentlemen wear cologne," Ragetti protested, as he held out his arms to display his badly fitting fine clothes, "And I be a right proper gentleman now."  
Pintel narrowed his eyes and smirked at him. "If ye be a proper gentleman, then I be Barbosa's first mate."  
  
A complete look of confusion washed over Ragetti's face. "I thought that was Jack the monkey's job."  
  
The squat little pirate smacked the taller one in the back of the head, making that mischievous wooden eye pop from its socket again and roll about on the floor. The one eyed pirate gave a cry of "Me eye!" and gave chase. He stepped on a discarded piece of soap and did some interesting, but graceful, flaring of the arms, hit the tub, and landed head first in the now quite murky muddy water. One bath was too many, but this was getting ridiculous.  
  
Marita appeared at the doorway and stopped the impish eye from rolling further. She unceremoniously yanked Ragetti's head out of the dirty water and deposited the wooden eye soundly in his hand. He smiled nervously at her and shrugged with a blush. She shook her head as the pirate wiped his face off on his sleeve and popped the wooden eye back in place. Pintel only stood back with his arms crossed. The woman of the house sniffed the air and her eyebrows lifted.  
  
"Have you men been playing around with my perfume?" she asked.  
  
The two of them tried to look innocent. She shook her head and shoved a broom and mop in each of their hands. "It is about time you did some work around here. So, you can start by cleaning up your mess," she ordered.  
  
"Work?" Pintel replied, "Madam, I can brag that I 'ave ne'er done an honest day's work in me life, and I ain't 'bouts to start."  
  
"Well, my dear little man, you can start today, or you can meet up with that hangman," she answered coldly.  
  
The two pirates looked at each other. "I knew I shouldn't 'ave got out of bed this morning!" Pintel complained. 


	6. Chapter 6: Witchy Woman and St Peter

Chapter 6: The Witchy Woman and Saint Peter  
  
Pintel and Ragetti were able to clean up their mess in the bath with very little incident or mishap. After all, their special purpose on the Black Pearl was swabbing the deck and other clean up duties. Captain Sparrow had quickly learned that they weren't good for much else. He was rather a sore one for getting holes in his beautiful black ship. He found out soon enough and in a rather bad way that you didn't put Pintel or Ragetti on any kind of navigational duty. They couldn't figure out whose left the Captain was talking about with the sails, and they weren't too sure what port or stern was. Pintel was a fisherman before he took up piracy, but he didn't need to learn all the fancy terminology. Ragetti had become Pintel's helper and learn everything from him. That didn't take long at all. Putting Pintel on the lookout didn't work out at all. The cry of "Land, Ho!" was a little late after the ship had already run aground. Ragetti was no good on lookout, because he was afraid of heights. Pintel's sense of direction was already discussed in an earlier chapter. Suffice it to say, Pintel could not find his way out of a wet paper bag. After the Pintel experience (How did one get the ship out in the middle of the Atlantic when sailing from Florida to Jamaica?), Sparrow was none too keen upon putting Ragetti to the navigational test. Although Barbosa thought Sparrow was a daft fool of a donkey (for a lack of a better name for him), he had to agree that the dynamic duo were best cut out for clean up duty. For an undead captain of an undead crew, Barbosa was a meticulously clean captain. So, after ten years on the job, Pintel and Ragetti had got the clean up duty down to a fine art. It was nothing that the Merry Maids Service would brag about, but it was passable.  
  
Ragetti had thrown off his coat and his boots because of the heat and humidity of the island, and he was exerting the most energy of the two. Besides, it felt more at home without shoes or coat. He did his job quietly. That was alright, because Pintel made enough noise for the both of them. He sat up on a barrel and did his supervising job (and he did it well), telling Ragetti what spots he missed, then he would complain quite vocally about the nerve of that woman telling them what to do. Of course, Pintel was the type of person, who spent more time trying to get out of work than it actually took to do the job in the first place. In this case, it worked out for him, since Ragetti did all the work.  
  
The taller pirate only smiled as he took the buckets outside to empty them. It was safer that way. Pintel would have found a way to slop it across the building. As before mentioned, the shorter pirate did have the habit of missing the side of the ship with the daily rubbish. Pintel followed his partner outside and worked hard on finding more things to gripe about.  
  
Sensing Pintel's special purpose, the younger man looked to his friend and remarked, "I'm gettin' right 'ungry for sure." He glanced up at the setting sun, that was now moving happily along its merry way to those special Colombian fields and leaving the Jamaican port in the dark. Oh well, more than half of the population was in the dark most of the time anyway. "We missed lunch, and I think we might be missin' dinner right now." He looked down at his growling stomach.  
  
Pintel scratched the back of his head and looked down at his own growling stomach. "I guess, I have got to agree with ye there, mate. It be kinda a pain to be alive 'gain."  
  
Ragetti shrugged. "In a way, but I sure did like Bootstrap's clam chowder, and Sparrow got some of those Viennese truffles that one time."  
  
"Yeah, ye got a point there, my friend. Me wife, she be a pain in all ways mentionable, but she cooked one 'ell of a mutton with all the fixin's."  
  
"Mayhap, Mrs. Marita will give us something to eat. I don't think she be wantin' to starve us."  
  
Pintel squinted his eyes up at the taller man. "No, I don't think she be plannin' on starvin' us, boy. Ye know what I be thinkin'?" That could be a dangerous activity for the older man.  
  
"Uh . . ." Ragetti answered, not wanting to equally engage in such a dangerous activity.  
  
"I think she be up to something a bit more sinister than a baker'," he spoke with a hint of mystery and fog in his voice, but that could have been from the lack of alcohol in his body at this time. His liver was sighing with relief and was feeling quite comfortable for the well earned vacation.  
  
"Whatcha mean, Pintel?" Ragetti asked with his usual puzzled look on his face.  
  
Pintel was loving it. He lived for these moments. The boy was hooked on his words. "Well, ye e'er be wonderin' where she be gettin' these fanc' clothes from?"  
  
"The tailor shop, I would be guessin'. They do make quite nice clothes and all. I was in one once when I was a kid. Me and some other kids nipped off with the profits and a nice corset for Randal's girl." the other replied as he fingered the sleeves of the once white somewhat now dirty and smelly canvas shirt. "These are quite nice, ye know, like the clothes in that shop."  
  
"'Ow ye e'er learned to take one step ahead of the other is beyond me!" the smaller pirate growled in disgust.  
  
"From me brother Mike," he answered obliviously to Pintel's scorn, "Why ye ask?"  
  
Pintel threw up his hands and shook his head. "I bet 'is real name was just Mike, too."  
  
"Nah. Da named 'im Michael. We just called 'im Mike. Why all the interest in me family? I thought we were talkin' about clothes and sinister bakeries."  
  
"Oh, ne'er ye mind!" he remarked, "The point I'm gettin' at is just this. Why would our 'ostess be 'avin' men's clothes 'bout? I mean," he said in a hushed voice and motioned for his companion to come closer. Ragetti obliged. "I be wonderin' if there may be some interestin' ingredients in those sausages she be makin'."  
  
"She's got a baker', Pintel. Ye can't buy sausages at a baker'. They sell bread and donuts and scones and . . ."  
  
"Hush, boy! Don't be confusin' the issues 'ere! Me, I've been 'round a little longer than ye, and "I've 'eard things that would make ye grey before yer time. I've 'eards once about some women, who took some men into their 'omes. Right pretty lasses from what I 'ave 'eard, but that be only in the light of day. Once the sun disappeared from the sky and darkness came, they became 'ideous monsters . . ."  
  
"Kinda like what we used to do, huh?" Ragetti piped in happily.  
  
Pintel held up a finger to hush him. "Don't be interrupting me, boy. This be important. Besides, you looked better as a rottin' skeleton."  
  
"Oh," replied the younger, as he scratched his shoulder.  
  
Pintel grabbed him by the his shabbily tied tie. Ragetti was forced closer to the other's face and forced to listen closer. "Anyways, you see, them women, they took these men out the back of the house and . . ." Pintel drew his finger across his throat in a dramatic way. The younger pirate turned pale and swallowed hard. "Next thing ye know, them men folk, they ended up in the stewing pot and those 'ell women shared the pot with all their neighbors."  
  
"Crimony! That's worse than Bo'sun's Monkey Hash!" Ragetti exclaimed with wide eyes.  
  
The smaller older pirate narrowed his eyes at his companion. "Why do I e'en bother?"  
  
Ragetti shrugged and headed back to the bakery with the empty buckets. Pintel threw up his hands and followed. Someone had to keep him out of trouble.  
  
Marita wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. It had been a long hard day. The bakery had been especially busy, and it was difficult to keep up with the vast flood of demands. She hoped that things would be less hectic in the future with her new help. She didn't know Pintel and Ragetti at all! She cracked out the kinks in her neck and shoulders and stretched her back. She would be glad when the hangings were over. That day, she would be really busy again. Everyone wanted pastries for the main event. Mankind needed a different past time than executions.  
  
She pulled the leftover bread and pastries from the racks and gathered them on a plate. She placed them on a table in the front of the store. These few pieces would be good enough to suit her needs. Her two uninvited guests in the back would be getting hungry, and they would need to be fed soon. She would have to cook supper for four and not two.  
  
She moved to the door to lock up for the evening, when a last minute customer came in. The woman looked up at the dark haired comely Commodore Norrington. She sighed exasperated. What did the bloody man want now!  
  
"Good evening, Commodore. What can I help you with tonight?"  
  
Norrington rubbed his sore head. He hated doing business with Mrs. Schmidt. It felt like dealing with his old school master with the ruler included. Oh well, she did have the best scones in town. Unfortunately, he had to bow out of dinner at the governor's house tonight. He had too much paper work to attend to with all the scheduled executions, escaped prisoners and explaining to his suspicious superiors what he had been doing parading around the Caribbean in the royal navy's proudest ship for the last couple months. At least, he still had the notorious pirate Jack Sparrow in custody, and that was enough in of itself to get the King's men off his back for awhile.  
  
"I was wondering if you might still have some of those scones left. You know the ones with the dates," he asked hopefully. Yes, he was here on business, but if he buttered her up with the purchase of her fine baking goods, then maybe she would be less volatile and would be more apt to answer his queries.  
  
"You are here awfully late in the day. The sun is gone and darkness is setting in," she answered as she lit some lanterns, "I'm getting ready to close up the shop for the day." She led him to the table where she had put the leftovers. "This is all I have left for the day."  
  
Norrington nodded and chose one with the bright fruit of this tropical island. At least, he thought it came from this island. He thought that it was called a papaya, but he wasn't sure. He had lived on this island for more than eight years, and he still didn't know the local flora and fauna. Oh well, he got by.  
  
"You should be more careful, my dear lady," he said, turning to her, "There are many dangers out there and many dangerous desperate men prowling the streets of Port Royal, despite what my men and I can do. It really isn't safe for a woman to be on her own." He couldn't come out and exactly tell her that his men had bungled up, and they lost a couple of the damn pirates. He had tried to tell her a similar kind of thing before, and he received many jeers and sneers. It wasn't worth the effort.  
  
Marita stood up straight and put her fists on her hips. "Commodore, you lousy two timing cretin!" she retorted. Oh well, this way didn't go over well either. "Can't you let the fire die out over the governor's daughter before you start chatting up another woman!"  
  
"Madam!" he replied haughtily, "that is not my intentions at all! Your husband has been dead, killed by a pirate from the recent pirate raid, for two months now. You wore black and was in mourning for the whole of three days, then you went about business as usual. It was well known that there was no love lost when Karl Schmidt met his untimely end, but it is also widely known that you are the sole protection of this household and business."  
  
"My dear Commodore," she answered with steady measured words, as she casually walked behind the counter like a fluent shadow. "My husband taught me many things in the way of survival whether he wanted to or not, and I have learned to put my faith in St. Peter. He will always protect me, and he never misses his target." She easily hefted the musket up from behind the counter.  
  
Norrington smiled with laughter on his lips. What ever happened to the mild meek maiden in distress. All the women he knew were pistons! "As long as you are prepared to do what you must, madam."  
  
He nodded to her and laid a coin on the counter. He left the bakery the way he came in. Marita shook her head and placed the musket back to its place behind the counter. She had better lock up before more trouble walked through. 


	7. Chapter 7: Dinner is Served

A/N: Hi there to all you folks, again. I wish to thank all of your lovely reviewers. Please, continue! It lets me knw you are out there, and I do want to write this story right for whatever reason. I wish to thank Peipei for her insigtful review, and I have incorporated in aome of the reasons why Marita is somewhat mean to the commodore. She could have been worse.  
  
The beginning of this is not very funny, but Marita is not really a funny character. So, bear with it. I am still trying to get them moving along, but it is hard. I thought their first real meal as being human again was important, and not only that, it was funny.  
  
Cheer up, for those who are reading this story. I may have been late with this one, but I am having the joys of hay fever, and I don't feel as well as I should. The Harry Potter story is not getting in the way of this story. It is coming off the top of my head, and James' head. So, those are quick little jokes. This one I take a bit more seriously. Serious! What's that?!  
  
Now as soon as Fanfiction gets back on line, I will post this little tidbit.  
  
Btw, if you were on Fanfiction or Fictionpress, there may have been a thing called "adware" virus running amuck there. I spend a lot of time on the two sites, and my Norton antivirus came up with this virus after I had visited there. I think that they may have fixed it now.  
  
Chapter 7: Dinner is Served  
  
Marita picked up the plate of leftover pastries and separated out a portion for her two uninvited guests. She mused over her encounter with the handsome commodore. She didn't particularly hate him. If her life had been different, she may well enjoy his company, not that he would ever really flirt with her. Her cold bitter exterior wouldn't allow him, and she really was not of the right class. She would have been more civil with him, but there were extraordinary circumstances abound today. She owed the pirates her freedom, whether it was the two idiots in the back or the ones that were to be hanged, who ran her husband through with a cutlass, she was paying them back. She was always one to repay favors done. The civil law and order of man did little to help her. Norrington, unfortunately, represented that man made law in this patriotical society, and his judgment was no different than the others passed down on her and her situation.  
  
She headed for the kitchen, that was located at the back of the bakery. She was going to check on the stew she was cooking there, then she was going to collect the two lamebrains from the bath. She flinched as she pushed the adjoining door open with her back. This could have been due to the pain of the old wounds there, but it was most likely the horrendous noises coming from her kitchen.  
  
Pintel and Ragetti were getting quite hungry after their hard work, and Ragetti was really good at following the instincts of his internal organs to where food calleth. This was not to say that they didn't eat while in captivity of the Royal Navy. In fact, Ragetti was happy enough to eat anyone else's leftovers. It was more like the food was not the best quality (They could have broke out a window with the bread, and the soup was thin enough to mop the floor clean with.) and was a bit scarce and far between. So, in no time at all, they found themselves at the kitchen, and they readily helped themselves to the cooking stew at the hearth and two bottles of cooking sherry. They were already sitting at the table and were eating in typical pirate fashion. Basically, suffice it to say, dogs had better manners than these two exhibited, and proper eating utensils were not used in the manner in which they were created for.  
  
Marita slammed the plate of bread on the table before them. She huffed a disgusted breath. They ignored her but not the bread she brought. Three real eyes and one wooden one lit up at the sight of good bread. (Well, the wooden eye was just there and didn't exactly approve of any kind of lighting up.) They both laid hands on the same loaf at the same time. They glared at each other and pulled at the tug of war with the bread until the irate baker bashed their hands with the broom handle. The both of them dropped the bread. Without hesitation, the two men dove under the table for it. The five second rule was not an issue here, but the other ravenous pirate was. With a triumphant smile on his face, Ragetti came up the victor. The one eyed pirate bit into the bread with great relish, but Pintel was prepared with more misuse of eating utensils. He promptly and without hesitation poked his partner in a tender spot with said utensil. The younger pirate yelped and dropped the bread into Pintel's lap and spewed morsels across the table. The older man wasted no time in picking up the loaf and biting into it. Never mind there was still another whole loaf on the plate.  
  
Marita, having had enough of their ill manners, quickly returned with her musket. She took aim and shot the bread out of the smaller pirate's hands. Both Pintel and Ragetti found themselves wet once again.  
  
"In my household, you will try to practice good manners. You will eat when you are offered the food and not before. Is that understood," she reprimanded.  
  
"Good table manners are against the pirate's code, luv," Pintel remarked through a mouthful of stew and bread. Ragetti busied himself with collecting the remaining spewed bits of bread and slightly gun powdered bits of shattered bread. He'd eaten worse.  
  
"If you cannot," she continued unaffected by the man's words, "I'm certain that I can get the commodore back here, and he can make sure you get your proper judgment."  
  
"Sorry, ma'am," Ragetti apologized, having a distinct phobia about musket gun powder entering his system the hard way (The gunpowder on his bread didn't count) and certain ropes being tied around his scrawny neck.  
  
Pintel swallowed his mouthful and pronounced a good hearty belch. He patted his belly with pride. A disgusting smile crossed his lips.  
  
The younger man smiled nervously showing those rotted teeth again. "Pintel says he's sorry, but ye be a good cook, and 'e apologizes for our rudeness, too, ma'am. 'E knows all those funn' frenchie ways 'n' all, ye know."  
  
"I don't give a rat's ass about your French manners. You are living on borrowed time here."  
  
Pintel mumbled some comment, but Ragetti didn't let him finish. Dim he might be, but telling their hostess about being walking rotting cursed corpses for ten years would never do.  
  
"You will do what you are told," she continued, as she removed a bag of gunpowder from the folds of her skirts. She knew that she would be using the gun, and she made sure to snatch a bag from under the counter before she reentered the kitchen. She set about reloading the musket in a manner that would have done a trained soldier proud, and it would have most likely frightened the wits out of the commodore. Women weren't suppose to know those kinds of things. "or St. Peter will take your head," she added, as she patted the gun lovingly.  
  
Pintel opened his mouth to say something, but Ragetti, sensing impending danger, elbowed him in the chest hard enough to cause him to gag. That was alright. He just swallowed it back down. He'd eaten worse even in the last twenty minutes.  
  
"I have a list of chores for you to do to earn your keep. I want these done before you retire for the evening. There are some things you need to do tomorrow as well," she announced as she pulled a piece of paper from her apron.  
  
Pintel and Ragetti looked at each other with the identical blank expression. "Readin' ain't one of our strong points, madam," Pintel pointed out.  
  
"Yeah, we be simple pirates, and Barbosa weren't too keen on us learnin' new skills. It was often a real scary experience when we did. 'Sides, Pintel, 'ere, 'e used to be a fisherman 'fore 'e joined the ranks of piracy, and me, I was 'is assistant."  
  
"That's 'cause ye were a lousy littl' street rat when I met ya. Pickin' me pockets you were," the squat little man replied as he took up one of the pastries and stuffed it unceremoniously into his mouth.  
  
"I got me punishment fer that, now didn't I. What were that thing ye 'ad in yer pocket. It were all icky and slimy!" Ragetti complained.  
  
"Serves ye right for picking a working man's pocket!" Pintel growled back.  
  
Da 'ad a real job," he replied, as he helped himself to one of the pastries, "'E did carpentry, but I ne'er saw 'im makin' any kind of carpets. Anyways, there were fourteen of us. We 'ad to make a livin' somehows."  
  
" Did yer father e'er get 'is pants on? No wonder 'e ne'er made any carpets. Yer mum kept 'im too busy."  
  
"Da wore pants. 'E ne'er got caught in dresses like we did!" Ragetti replied, not quite getting it. He, then remember Marita there, and his face flushed bright red.  
  
"Enough of this," she cried out, "I want the two of you to clean this kitchen and the store front before you go to bed tonight. I want to be able to eat off the floor when you are done." She glanced at her confused audience. She narrowed her eyes. "I want you to sweep and mop the floors and do the dishes," she clarified, "There are bags of sugar and flour in the cellar. I want you to bring one of each up here and leave it here in the kitchen I need those for tomorrow's business. I get up quite early in the morning to start baking, so bring them up after you have done the floors. There are bed clothes laid out for you in the bedroom over there," she pointed to a door on the far right of the kitchen, "These used to be the servants' quarters in better times. The room is a nice room and the beds are clean. Keep them that way. You may use them for whatever you see fit, but try not to burn down the bakery in the process. You are under no circumstance allowed to go upstairs. Those are my rooms, and I do not wish to be disturbed." She glared at each of them for emphasis.   
  
"This be a baker'. Whatcha doin' with servant's quarters?" Pintel asked through a mouthful.  
  
"My husband had money, but I wanted to run a bakery. Fortunately for you, my helpers have left to new jobs now," she answered.  
  
Pintel looked at Ragetti with a self satisfied look of "I told you so", but the taller pirate was more enthralled with other things to notice.  
  
"In the morning, I want you to chop more wood for the hearth and the oven. You will do the laundry . . ."  
  
"Speakin' of the laundr', what 'bout these clothes? Won't the feller these belong to be wantin' 'em back?" Pintel asked suspiciously.  
  
"He doesn't need them anymore," she replied flatly.  
  
Pintel and Ragetti looked at each other in shock. "I told ya so," the older man mouthed again.   
  
The taller pirate, not being fluent in lip reading, muchless any other kind of reading for that matter, replied, "Huh?"  
  
"He was killed by the pirate raid two months ago," she replied.  
  
The pirates looked at each other, then they tried to count back to two months agao unsuccessfully. They had dared too much brain work for the day. Pintel thoughtfully scratched his backside. Oh well, that's where his brain was located anyway. A passing thought about he'd been awfully itchy of late passed in through one ear and out the other and didn't hit anything in between.  
  
"Were we 'ere at that time?" he questioned his younger partner.  
  
"Uh . . ."replied Ragetti, as he squinted his left eye close, leaving him in the dark once again. What else was new. He scratched behind the corresponding ear. "I ain't sure. Was that the time we were 'ere lookin' fer that coin, that Miss . . ."  
  
Pintel hit him hard enough in the back that the younger man fell forward in his stew. Oh well, Ragetti was still hungry anyway.  
  
"Bit lonely 'round 'ere with no man to protect ya, eh? Some nasty riff raff could give ye trouble," Pintel observed wickedly.  
  
Ragetti raised his face from the stew. A sinister sneer crossed his face. It might have been quite fearsome, if he didn't have stew all over his face. The image wasn't helped any by the fact that he was unconsciously digging around in his stew for that wooden eye. He found it, licked the clinging stew from it, then popped it back in place. He believed that Pintel and he had heard their true calling, and they were so good at terrorizing helpless women. It fitted so well with the pirate code.  
  
Marita was anything but helpless. She narrowed her dark eyes at them and said in a clear stern voice, that had a good bit of terrorizing in of itself. "St. Peter is all the man I need."  
  
"'Ave a 'ard time gettin' it to fit, dotcha?" Pintel remarked, forgetting about the terrorizing in favor of being his normal obnoxious lecherous self.  
  
Ragetti's eyes grew wide. A shocked expression crossed his face, and if it wasn't so covered with stew, it would have been several interesting shades of red. In a way, he himself, was glad that they wouldn't have to try to bully her. Since the curse was broken, he felt more inclined to do skirt chasing than the murdering and raping, and not particularly in that order, but the residue of the curse remained.  
  
Fortunately for the two of them, she didn't feel inclined to waste anymore gun powder on them. Otherwise, Pintel would now be dead, and Ragetti would be lonely without the only person he could truly match wits with. "If I didn't need help around here, you would already be gone from here."  
  
Pintel elbowed Ragetti and commented, "See, whatcha tell ye. Best not be eatin' any of those sausages she be bringin' out or might put in yer stew!"  
  
Ragetti looked down at his stew. It tasted fine by him. Marita filled up two bowls of stew. She hefted St. Peter under her arm. She picked up the bread and pastries from the store front and her daily earnings. It would never do to leave money unguarded with two rogues in the house. She left the two men to their own devices. That could have been dangerous indeed. 


	8. Chapter 8: Die Pest

A/N: So, I'm running a little late again! I went to a Reds game last night, and that buggered up everything! Anyway, my thanks goes out to my wonderful readers/reviewers! You are making me keep something resembling a schedule. I appreciate and i'm certain the guys in this story appreciate it! Pintel gives a hearty belch for you! That's his way of thank you. It is a multi-talented noise!  
  
Thank you, Miran Anders, my newest reviewer, and I will continue to read your Bootstraps story later on in the week.  
  
To PeiPei, I will be reading your latest installment also this week. I really appreciate your reviews and greatly respect your writings.  
  
To everyone else, if you have reviewed, tahnk you, and I will return the favor. If not, please do, and i will return the favor, still! I've got to know who you are before I can read your goodies! :)  
  
Warning, this chapter has some angst in it. There were parts that I found impossible to write funny, and there are parts that just turned out that way! And I hope my german is correct for the title. I am not sure of the article. The title was chosen for multiple reasons, and the movie "Nosferatu" is on the mind of late. It's April, go figure!  
  
Anyway, I got home in time to do the edit, and I am re-posting this now.  
  
Chapter 8: Die Pest  
  
Pintel and Ragetti managed to do their chores with little to no mishaps. Ragetti smiled merrily and hummed a cheerful, if not just downright filthy, barroom tune, that surprisingly enough Pintel didn't teach him. Although being a fellow always opened to learn more on such a subject matter, he was a bit busy trying to do his share of the work for a change. He would have been inclined to complain about the whole situation, but for some reason, he didn't feel like it, and he felt it was difficult to breath. He shrugged it off and attributed it to eating his meal a tad bit too fast and having such a stressful day.  
  
When it came to getting the sugar and the flour from the cellar, neither of them knew the difference between the two substances. It was the women's job to deal with all aspects of cooking at home, and none of the captains they had served under in the past were foolhardy enough to allow them to do any kind of cooking, muchless near any of the food supplies. So, the two pirates decided that a taste test was in order. The sugar went down well, and Pintel had to hit Ragetti to keep him from consuming too much of it. The flour was a different and kind of a messy situation. Suffice it to say, it didn't taste as good, but it was sure fun to play with. So, after throwing a couple handfuls of the soft cool powdery substance at each other, the taller man tied up the bag again. After Ragetti ended up tugging the two loads up the steps into the kitchen, because although Pintel tried, he couldn't manage it, the two crawled off to their beds, in their powdery pallor.  
  
Since they had the luxury of separate beds and a real room for the first time since neither one of them could remember, Ragetti chose to pop that wooden eye of his into a cup on the nightstand before turning in for the night. The way he figured it, what the hey, they got private beds, and the inanimate object deserved one, too. Each man discarded his work clothes on the floor in messy piles and wiggled into the proper night clothes. Then each pirate collapsed into his separate bed in proper pirate fashion, i.e. face down and sprawled out with at least one arm and/or/ both leg(s) hanging over the edge. The immediate sonorous snores were enough to scare off any vermin in the near vicinity.  
  
Marita may have expected them up early the next morning, but she wasn't so stupid as to believe they would actually get up at any reasonable hour on their own. She was up and about well before dawn, and she did the early morning chores and baking for the morning clientele. She was impressed with their work of the previous night in as far as the two ninnies had actually done a reasonable job of the chores she had given them. Most of the sugar and the flour were still in their bags. She followed up and shook her head at the floury footsteps on the clean floor and going to the bed room. She shrugged and swept up the mess. Deep inside of her, she laughed at the thought of the two dummies in the flour. Neither one of them was a child, but that didn't say that they acted like adults. Maybe they were worth saving after all.  
  
Fortunately, she had enough wood for the baking and the morning cooking. She didn't have to worry about waking the sleeping guests until well after three hours after dawn. By that time, her morning customers had been ushered out and were happily fed for breakfast. Having not heard any loud crashes or any other destructive noises, she came to the conclusion that the two rogues still slept. She not so quietly or gently entered the room and slammed the door. This registered very little conscious response from either of them. Ragetti continued to sleep half sprawled off of the bed in the way his long limbs were stretched out. It was the first time he had ever gotten a bed to himself. At home, he was eleventh of fourteen, and he got to share the floor with most of his other siblings. On board the ships that he served, he sprawled out on the floor with the other lesser crew members. Then there were other activities in the many visits to Tortuga, that he spent not so much time sleeping and the bed wasn't his alone either. So, although the Tortuga trips were fun, he was in seventh heaven, and he muttered endearing comments about Marita as he gleefully flitted about in dreamland. The mistress of the bakery was not exactly pleased, but there other problems to deal with, that save the younger pirate from a good slapping. Pintel, on the other hand, was curled up in a tight ball by this time. Somehow, he didn't seem right to her (Well, right as the older man's standards qualified them). Then she noticed the signs of flour all over the floor, the discarded clothes in the middle of the floor between the two beds, on the beds, on the two men, on the nearby furniture, and she figured that there could not be much wrong with these mischievous creatures. She grabbed hold of the broom that Ragetti had absently brought with him and dropped on the floor without any regard as to its proper place. She slapped each pirate with the straw end of it each in his turn. Pintel moaned and tightened into his ball. Ragetti sat up and sneezed. Lucky for him and the sake of the story, the wooden eye was still happily sleeping in its cup. The taller younger man fell back to the pillows, asleep even before he hit them again.  
  
"Get your lazy asses up and out of bed NOW!!" she demanded.  
  
Neither man moved. They had been commanded to do so in more forceful voices long before they ever heard of Marita Schmidt and slept through it. Besides, they had ten years worth of sleep to catch up with. Ragetti made interesting mutterings and movements in his sleep, that made Marita's face flush. Pintel had said worse while conscious. She was caught for a moment of indecision, but soon her mind was made up. The older pirate had had the bigger mouth and had said more to insult her. She grabbed him forcefully up by the collar. It did not take long for her to realize that not all was right with the ex-fisherman. Other than the welts and blisters, that covered his body, he was covered in perspiration. He shivered and his breathing was harsh and forced. She cursed as she dropped him back to the sheets. Just what she needed! She went to the other man and skillfully avoided the groping hands. Ragetti snored with steady regular breathing. He had the welts and the blisters, as well, but he did not show the same signs of fever. Oh well, if she was going to be contaminated by this disease, she would have already contracted it from the other loser. Ragetti continued to sleep contently as she held him up by his collar. She shook him to no effect. She dropped him heavily back to the bed in disgust. It would have tasted too much like betrayal to have the Commodore cart them off. She blew out an exasperated breath and espied the cup with Ragetti's favorite wooden appendage. She picked up the cup and shook it. The wooden eye, not exactly being thrilled with the A.M. side of morning either, made angry rattling noises. The man, heeding the call, blindly felt around the night stand. Marita slammed the cup on his searching hand. With a yelp of pain (and a satisfied rattle from the wooden eye), Ragetti sat up and cuddled his injured hand. He looked at Marita, and his face turned bright red with the memory of his dreams.  
  
"Your friend is sick," (in more than one way) she informed him, "And you don't look so good yourself."  
  
Looking down at the welts on his hands, he swallowed down a lump in a swollen sore throat. Nervously, he touched the blisters on his throat. His one eye opened wide as did his empty eye socket in fear. Fortunately, the wooden eye was otherwise displaced and would not be falling out at the opportune moment. He gasped and cried out none too brightly, "I've got the plague!"  
  
Marita smirked and shook her head in disgust. "You don't have the plague, stupid," She replied with measured words. She placed her hand to his forehead. He had a bit of a fever, but it was nothing like the other's. "For one thing, there has been no word of the plague for over 30 years, and that happened in England. You're in the Caribbean. You are more likely to get Malaria here."  
  
"Me sister Emily, she died of the plague then. She 'ad sores all o'er 'er throat and a terrible fe'er. I was gone fer a week, then. I 'ad a little run in with the law. When I came 'ome, she 'ad al'eady died," he explained, then his shoulders dropped, "I cried fer a week, and mum smacked me up side the 'ead and said I was bein' a big baby."  
  
"You couldn't have been much more than a baby then. You don't look much older than thirty yourself," she commented.  
  
"Uh . . . well, uh . . ." he answered in his normal confused manner.  
  
"Besides, your sister had black patches on her throat, now didn't she."  
  
"Uh . . . I think so," he replied with a blank look.  
  
She approached him and he pulled back. She won out and inspected his sores. "You were messing about in the overgrowth yesterday, weren't you?"  
  
"Uh . . ." he continued intelligently, as he scratched his head.  
  
She smacked his hand away from his digging. "Don't scratch the blisters. It will only make it worse." She looked at Pintel and shook her head again. "Whatever is wrong with your friend isn't the same thing that you've got."  
  
"Pintel's sick!" he exclaimed, as he tumbled out of the bed and went to him.  
  
"I think he might have pneumonia," she remarked now that she had had time to think about it. She watched the younger man grasped the older man's hand. They looked more of father and son than ship mates. She frowned. She could never think of a man acting this way, but her husband was not the same as these two. "The brigs of the ships tend to be rather damp and cold. Your friend is a bit older than you, and he is more susceptible to sickness. It doesn't help matters that he's got the weed poisoning like you do."  
  
"'Enry!" he called out, "Ye can't die on me yet! We just got free! Ye and me, we've got too much to do, remembe'! There's a whole world yet fer us to pilfer and pillage, and ye promised to take me to Tortuga again and get me drunk and get me a real woman!"  
  
Marita rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Men!" she grumbled. She sighed and asked, "How famous of pirates are you?"  
  
"Uh . . ." Ragetti answered in his normal brightness.  
  
"How wanted are you?"  
  
"Well, mum said I was an oopsy, and da said that if it were legal to sell another Christian, 'e wouldn't get two farthin's fer me on the auction block."  
  
"That's not what I mean, you moron! How much of a reward would the Royal Navy put on your head, and would you be recognized by the public?"  
  
The one eyed pirate bit the knuckles of his right hand and scratched the back of his neck. The woman knocked his left hand away from doing any more damage to himself. "I don't think we were well know. We weren't an'thing special 'board the Pearl."  
She nodded to him and left them for a few moments. She returned with two jars. She handed him one. "Here. Put this salve on your sores. It will keep them from itching so much, and it will heal them."  
  
Ragetti nodded and obeyed. Once he was done with his own application, he carefully did the same for Pintel. The older pirate continued to moan and struggle with breath, but he did not wake. Ragetti bit his lower lip and forced himself not to cry. The baker heard the jingle of the store door's bell, and she left to take care of her customer. She made a conscious effort to hurry back before the conscious nitwit destroyed something.  
  
Ragetti sat on Pintel's bedside and tears streamed down his cheeks. He may have lost the right eye, but it was a clean cut, and he still had the tear ducts there. He was capable of streaming tears from that empty eye socket as well. He held the older man's hand in his own. Marita was silent as she returned to the room, and she went to and pulled Pintel up into a sitting position. "It is best for him," she told the puzzled Ragetti. The younger pirate wiped the tears from his face. "Are either one of you marked for your crimes?" she asked.  
  
The pirate looked down and blushed deeply. "Pintel's not, but I am," he answered. He pulled up the right sleeve of his sleeping gown to show her the "P" on his forearm. "Pintel don't look it, but 'e's really good at runnin' 'way. I've been caught a couple o' times, but 'e's always got me out of it."  
  
"Uh-hun," she answered, as she opened the other jar, that contained makeup.  
  
Ragetti pulled away from her. "'Ey! Now, wait a minute! Just 'cause Pintel and me've been caught in dresses don't mean anythin'! We be real men!"  
  
"Oh, do shut up!" she ordered, as she pulled his branded arm towards her. She smeared the makeup over the scar to hide it. The young man watched her curiously at first, then he smiled at her unexpected gentleness. She put some of the makeup on the welts on his face and his neck. Strange thoughts entered his head and singed the tips of his hair He felt those argumentive butterflies in his stomach, and they tickled his bladder. He drew in his legs tight to avoid further embarrassment.  
  
"Get dressed and watch the bakery for me," she told him, as she put the lid back on the jar of makeup. I'll fetch a doctor, and I'll be back as quickly as possible. Try not to tear the place down while I'm gone!"  
  
Ragetti nodded dumbly . . . not a difficult feat for him at all. Within a quarter of an hour, the tall scruffy man, with wooden eye included, stood stiffly behind the counter. He would have hurled his breakfast, if he had gotten any, but blessedly his stomach was now empty, and his other bladder problems were taken care of before he came out front. Marita hurried out the door. Luck was even more with them all. It was the slow time of the day, and Ragetti had gotten no customers during Marita's absence. Not only did he not know one pastry from the other, but he had a real hard time counting change.  
  
With a very few questions asked about Marita's late husband's "very distant cousin and his nephew", the doctor treated the patient. He left her a list of instructions for the care of the sick man. Well, it would cure his physical illness, but he was not the type of doctor to take care of his mental problems. Fortunately, Pintel didn't feel much like opening his big mouth, proving beyond a doubt that the man was seriously ill. Therefore, the doctor did not question the ruse. The doctor gave Ragetti a suspicious look on the way out. The taller man only put on a forced cheery smile and waved him "bye".  
  
It took no time for Ragetti to rush into the room and let out a vast sigh of relief. Pintel was sitting up on his own accord and eating . . . well, slurping the chicken soup, that Marita was coaxed into making for him. He grumbled something about being indebted to a bloody woman. Ragetti only smiled. The doctor was right. The old fellow would be back to normal in no time at all.  
  
"Quit gawking and get back to work, you lazy pile of cretinous rags!" Marita called back through the doorway. "You've got the work of two to do now, plus take care of this accursed dolt!"  
  
"Yes, Mrs. Marita," Ragetti called back. He shrugged and gave Pintel a tired smile.  
  
"Bloody woman!" growled Pintel again. As his younger companion left, he added, "Stupid bonehead!" 


	9. Chapter 9: A Devil and an Angel

A/N: Pintel was a tad bite peturbed about not getting much of the spotlight in Chapter 8, so Ragetti lets him have most of this chapter! For a fellow, who has so few redeming qualities, Pintel is a fun fellow to write, mind you, and this chapter is based on an image I got at 3AM at work. My job is mindless!  
  
My thanks to my wonderful readers and reviewers, especially you, Peipei. I greatly respect your work, and I am glad that you enjoy this bit.  
  
Thanks to my anonymous reviewer, whom I will read your stuff as soon as you let me know a penname or let me know you've written something.  
  
Thanks to you, Forgettable Face. I appreciate the review and your story as well. I tried to find your Fictionpress piece, but the search engine comes up with nothing for your penname or story title. Let me know some more info on it, and I will try to check it out!  
  
So, without further ado . . .  
  
Chapter 9: A Devil and an Angel  
  
Pintel was to stay in bed for a full week. Normally, he would have been pleased to have an excuse to laze around on his butt and do nothing and be waited on hand and foot like a king, but he was not the type to be ordered around by a bloody woman, a sissy doctor, and it's best not to discuss the descriptive terms he had for Ragetti. This wasn't to say that he was so eager to get back to work. He, by his very nature, put laziness to new heights, but he did feel just a tad bit guilty about his companion doing all the work. Ragetti didn't complain about his lot. That wasn't his special purpose in life. Actually, within a few hours after the doctor had managed to wake him and force some medicine done his throat, Pintel was feeling quite his old grouchy ornery self again. His grumbling and creative cursing had started as soon as he opened his eyes, and things steadily went downhill from there. At this particular time, he was feeling a certain aching call of Mother Nature, and he'd be damned (which was a very strong possibility considering recent events and rather nasty curses he'd lived through) if he was going to have a woman help him with his business, and he was sure as hell wasn't going to call for Ragetti's help. Not only did the fellow have enough to do, but Pintel had his doubts about the younger man sometimes.  
  
Anyway, at some point in time during the late afternoon pushing early evening, Pintel could hold it no longer. He was feeling fairly decent anyway. The fever had broke for a time, and the medicine that Marita had forced down his throat no more than a half an hour ago seemed to be working its magic. He grumbled some not so nice obscenities about her and her special medicine administrating methods. She had no pity on the sick. She certainly knew where to hit a man to make him open his mouth, and she was quick and accurate with her aim to get the medicine down him. Despite this entertaining little drama, he was still feeling more his usual nasty self, and he'd pretty much forgot about being sick. Besides, he was more than a little bored. He was in the servants quarters alone. Ragetti and Marita were busy keeping the bakery going. He couldn't read or write, not that there was anything in the room for such activities. He could sit and think, but he tried often to avoid such strenuous work. He couldn't properly relax because of his aching problem. He did sleep on and off, but even that got tiresome, especially since he kept dreaming of Ragetti in one of Marita's dresses and having strange moonlight dinners with him. He really tried not to think about it, because it caused other objectiveable material for his stomach.  
  
So, with that last horror in his mind, he decided to get up. He threw his feet out of bed and stood up. That was easier than he thought it would be. Somehow, this morning, this simple task seemed a lot harder and downright impossible. He looked around the room for a means for escape.  
  
Pintel might not be the brightest candle in the candelabra, but he knew going through the only door of the room was out of the question. It would have dumped him right back into the kitchen, and if Marita wasn't there, Ragetti was sure to be, and he would get issued back to square one. Ragetti could be such a fuss about these things, and Pintel didn't really want to explore Marita's possibilities. He looked around the brightly lit room. A single window was positioned at waist level in the Southern wall. It was opened, allowing the fresh Caribbean breeze to filter into the small room. The older pirate nodded. This would be his means of escape.  
  
He hobbled over to the window and took in a deep breath. It was good to be alive again, have lungs again, and be able to do that again, but it doesn't go over too well when one's lungs are full of goop. Pintel's body was wrecked with a harsh coughing fit. Once it passed, he found himself wheezing and sitting on the floor with his back to the window. Through the involuntary tears streaming from his eyes and clutching his chest, he looked around the deserted room. Good, he thought, no one noticed. he made a mental note and resolved no more breathing. It was bad for his health. With a bit of a struggle, he crawled up and over the window sill. He flipped out of the window and landed flat on his back. After thirty years of piracy, most pirates would have gotten the breaking and entering bit down pat. Oh well, this wasn't exactly breaking and entering. the window was already opened, and he was leaving the house. Not to mention, this situation was different from his piracy in two distinct ways. First off, he was used to the front door approach, where he and several of his cohorts, not so subtly knocked down the front door, killed anyone that got in their way, and took everything that wasn't nailed down. Secondly, and most importantly, he was sick, and that excused everything. So, after nodding his head in approval of a fine job of escape, he got up and brushed off his backside and went in search of the lou.  
  
As before mentioned, Pintel's sense of direction was nothing to write home about, and it was better not to leave any kind of navigation to him. So, after a good quarter of an hour of searching, the pirate decided that he would just discreetly do some fertilizing of the weeds. After a few minutes, he emerged from the greenery, feeling much relieved and a few pounds lighter. Tugging his night shirt down, he headed back to the bakery. This place he could find his way back to without tying a piece of yarn to the bed post, because it was a rather big building for him to keep in his sights and make his way back to.  
  
Whistling a nice pirate tune, that strangely enough wasn't a dirty ditty, he lifted his bowed leg to climb back through the window, when he heard a low warning guttural growl, that didn't belong to his stomach. Despite the warm balmy conditions of the Jamaican port city, he felt the chilling claws of ice creeping up his spine at this unknown threatening sound. He slowly lowered his leg and swallowed a sizeable lump in his throat. He turned about in slow motion to see a giant of a black muscular dog with fine sharp teeth bared in that certain little way that said, "Hi there! You didn't really need that throat, now did you?"  
  
A nervous grin crossed the older man's lips. He held up his hands defensively and took cautious steps back and away from the window. The dog slowly stepped forward and never let the prey leave his sight. Sensing the proper time, the man turned tail and ran with amazing speed and agility for one of his age and his condition. The dog gave out a victory howl and went in hot pursuit.  
  
Meanwhile, Ragetti, having cleaned himself up (Combed his hair, shaved, and washed off his hands and face . . . it's amazing what a woman could get him to do . . .), was busy sweeping the dirt out of the kitchen back door. He had spent the morning doing a good many chores, and he was quite proud of his achievements. After all, he had gotten a few approving grunts from Marita. He paused in his work for a bit, and he allowed a trickle of laughter to escape his lips. So, not only did chaos come at him from his right side, but his mind was not exactly in the same reality as everyone else. So, within moments, he was knocked down, pounded on by a desperately fleeing man, who had conveniently lost the seat of his nightshirt, then thumped by a 150 pound dog with the torn piece of cloth in its mouth.  
  
After several entertaining Pintel curses, that were unique even to pirate dialect, and a shrill demanding cry of "Lucy! Stop that this instance!", peace was restored to the bakery once again. Recovering from his traumatic experience and a chase of and recapture of that wooden orb, Ragetti entered the kitchen to find Marita holding back the big black and brown dog and shaking a finger at it. Pintel sat up with his legs sprawled out on the floor and coughing.  
  
Noticing the confused man's entrance, Marita ordered him, "Get him up and back to bed."  
  
The taller man nodded in obedience, but Pintel pushed off the attempts to be helped. "I ain't that 'elpless yet!" he wheezed, "And I won't be treated like a blood' babe!"  
  
"If the diaper fits," she remarked, and the dog enforced the point with a deep throaty bark.  
  
The older pirate made a rude gesture to the dog, as Ragetti pulled him to his feet. He pushed off his companion and stood on his own for a moment, then his body having had enough of this romp and foolishness, collapsed into Ragetti's arms.  
  
A half an hour later, Pintel found himself back in the bed with the watchful big bloodshot brown eyes of that black and brown dog on him. Ragetti bustled into the room with a heavily laden tray with his own and his companion's meal on it. He gently put the tray down on his bed. He dug under his bed a moment and pulled out a dark bottle and picked up a bowl from the tray. He poured the dark liquid from the bottle onto the collaborate of food in the bowl, then he placed it before the dog. The tall man petted the dog on the head, and the animal gave him a good size slobbery kiss across the face. A cheerful grin crossed the man's lips.  
  
"I wouldn't be wearin' that big grin if I were ye. 'E just got done cleanin' 'is privates," Pintel commented.  
  
Ragetti only shrugged and took a mug from the tray. He poured some of the liquid from the bottle into the mug and stirred it up with a spoon. Marita had managed to teach him something about eating utensils. "Mrs. Marita says ye must take yer medicine."  
  
"Hmpf!" the other remarked, as he turned away from the offering. "I ain't doin' nuttin' fer 'er!" He turned away from his pirate cohort with his arms crossed. He gave a brief glance to the happily lapping dog. "I don't know which one is the bigger bitch, the mistress of the 'ouse or that damn mutt!"  
  
"Uh," Ragetti replied, as he eyed the merrily eating dog with his good eye. "Pintel, that ain't no bitch there."  
  
The older pirate looked at him puzzled, then he replied, "What boob names a male devil dog Lucy?"  
  
"Mrs. Marita says 'is proper name be Lucifer," the other answered.  
  
"Quite on the extremes, ain't she? She names 'er blasted musket St. Peter, and then she turns 'round and names 'er blood' dog after the devil. Little bit of 'Eaven and 'Ell, don't ye think!"  
  
The younger man put the mug on the nightstand and went to scratch the back of his neck, then he remembered Marita's scolding about scratching the blisters. He pulled his hand away guiltily. "She says it were 'er 'usband's dog, but it ain't 'is fault fer who bought 'im. So, she keeps 'im 'bouts to protect the place."  
  
"Figures," the other grunted.  
  
"She says 'e's a good dog when 'e ain't runnin' 'bouts town. She says 'e'll take good care of ye."  
  
"I bet. Take me throat out in the middle of the night, 'e will!" Pintel grumped.  
  
Ragetti shook his head and petted the dog on the head. "Lucy ain't like that. 'E just took a shine to ye is all."  
  
"By the seat of me pants," the other mumbled.  
  
"Ye were wearin' a nightshirt, Pintel, not pants," Ragetti pointed out, as he dragged a chair over to the older man's bedside.  
  
"Oh, do shut up!" growled Pintel.  
  
The younger pirate picked up the mug from the nightstand. He offered it to his bedridden companion again. "'Ere, take yer medicine," he offered.  
  
"Pah! I need no blood' foul tastin' gunk in me stomach to solve me problems!"  
  
"Oh, Pintel, I made it up special fer ye," Ragetti encouraged, giving him one of his big sad eyed look, that even was effective with the one wooden eye in place.  
  
"I don't care! There ain't no way yer gonna get that foul ichor in me throat!" he pouted.  
  
"But, 'Enry, I put some rum in it just fer ye," the other pointed out happily.  
  
"And, pray, where did ye find any rum in this 'ell 'ole?" he questioned, as he grabbed the mug from his friend. He grimaced at the contents, then he downed it in one gulp. This caused another coughing fit, but this one was not due to the pneumonia.  
  
Recognizing the symptoms of potent stuff, Ragetti didn't fret, and continued on with his answer to question asked. "In the cellar last night. There were a whole crate full in the corner. I kinda thought that not all was right by ye since ye didn't notice it first. Ye've always been so good with these things," he replied as he brought the tray of food to him. He pulled the partial bottle from the nightstand and filled the dog's bowl with it again, then he filled Pintel's mug again. He finally took a good hearty swig from the bottle, emptying it. He discarded the bottle into the corner, then he pulled out two more bottles from under his bed and held them up for the other's approval.  
  
"It be good stuff, too," coughed Pintel, "Not that watered down stuff from town!"  
  
"I managed to bring up a few bottles with the sugar last night," Ragetti added proudly, "We do need the proper things of life now!"  
  
Uncorking a new bottle and taking a hearty swig from it, Pintel squinted his eye at his taller companion. "Ye be an angel indeed, me boy!" 


	10. Chapter 10: Stella!

Well, here I am at Chapter 10, and I finally get to introduce Estella. She's been in the works of the turning wheels in the head since Chapter 3! So, Pintel and Ragetti are good at doing a whole lot of nothing, and it took a while. The chapter title has the musical "A streetcar Named Desire" in the back of my mind. I have never heard this piece, but my ex-boyfriend used to go around and cry out "Stella!"  
  
So, far, as far as I can tell this is now the longest Pintel and Ragetti fiction, or I'm at least tied with Japas the Bassist. You guys keep me writing, and I actually have an end planned out for this story, but it is a very long ways off. I have plans for us to meet that illusive Mrs. Pintel. Yes, someone was crazy enough to marry the old goat! But this will be be quite some ways off! Mullroy and Martogg should be back about Chapter 15, if not earlier if things go well. Still no plans to work Will into this story, but Elizabeth will make a short appearance. These are some things for you to mull over, and maybe intrigue you. Keep reading! :)  
  
My thanks goes out to my faithful readers and reviewers, PeiPei and Miran Anders. Both of them are writing very interesting pieces, and they are both well written. Mme. Calico Jack Rackham is writing two very good stories herself.  
  
Last piece. I have yet to proof read this, but I will get to do so hopefully this afternoon. I like to keep something resembling a schedule on this one.  
  
Chapter 10: Stella!  
  
Two weeks had come and gone for the two pirates at the bakery. For the last week, Pintel had been up and about on his own, and he had returned to his proper demeanor . . . i.e. his rude, crude, lazy, worthless and generally nasty self. With another firm introduction to St. Peter and many asundrious flying objects ( . . . Ragetti's wooden eye was feeling rather jealous over all the other inanimate objects cutting in on its act!) that more often than not hit their target, Pintel was finally convinced to get up and help out with the chores and do his fair share. It was not like he was dead against doing the work (Been there, done that!) and helping out his partner (He was not certified in the proper department for that one), but it was the principle of it all. He had become a pirate to get out of doing so much work. The career change didn't quite work out the way he had planned. Doing highway robbery on the high seas was a lot of work, like swabbing the deck, mending the sails, and patching up holes. It just didn't pay too bad, and he was encouraged to terrorize little old ladies.  
  
Although the threats to his physical being seemed to do little good (He'd heard worse threats. Barbosa could be quite a creative fellow when it came to torture and the ultimate demise of fellow crew members. The Spanish Inquisition was in his blood. Not to mention, Mrs. Pintel knew a thing or two to scare the pants off a man.), Marita had come up with another approach. She was an exceptionally intelligent woman and thought up a way that would be less trying on her throwing arm and would leave some of her worldly possession in tact. The threat of "No work, No more rum" not only got the older man's attention, but it got him out of bed and ready to work. Even Lucy stood at attention for this offer. She did not particularly approve of the two loafers drinking her rum behind her back, nor did she particularly approve of them getting her dog sloshed in the process, but it did get rid of the crateful of rum that her late husband had bought right before his death and kept in the cellar for those special occasions with the guys. It did take Pintel and Ragetti a while to get through the supply. The two tended to be unconscious after two bottles of the stuff, and that wasn't counting the dog's share. They certainly were not a pair of Jack Sparrows, not that the mistress of the bakery knew the infamous captain and his special drinking habits. She would find Ragetti spread out face down on his bed with the empty rum bottle in hand. Pintel would be flat on his back snoring loudly with the unconscious dog stretched across his midsection. Oh well, it kept the trio from romping about while the bread was rising, and one of the two managed to clean up the mess made. It was most likely Ragetti.  
  
Over the two weeks, she got them cleaned up and presentable. They were no longer in the old world, where baths were taken once a month during the warm seasons, whether they needed them or not. They were not on a ship any longer, where fresh water was a precious commodity. Port Royal was on a tropical island, that was often prone to balmy sweaty conditions and it had plenty of fresh water. So, in favor of cleaner air, she felt it was her duty to convince the two to have regular bathing habits. Ragetti was the easier of the two to convince. A smile, a wink, and sometimes even a peck on the cheek was enough to get him to dazedly fall into the tub, usually fully clothed. Oh well, it saved on him doing the laundry. Pintel took another kind of convincing. She didn't dare do any kind of flirting with the dirty minded old letch. So, liking the older pirate as much as he did, Lucy was still Marita's dog and he did her bidding. Not to mention, he had the best sense of smell of the four of them. Needless to say, the dog and the pirate usually ended up taking a bath together. Pintel could have thought of better bathing partners, but Marita might do some not so nice things to him.  
  
Having been human for a short while and everything was back in working order again, Ragetti found that his hair was growing at an incredible rate, and since his barber was laid up for that week, he decided to cut it himself. That was until Marita caught him with the soup bowl. Well, at least she could cut straight, and she didn't even need the soup bowl to do it either! She left his blonde hair a little longer than he usually kept it, but she wanted something to grab hold of when he misbehaved. She stopped all his complaints by telling him that he was quite handsome with the longer hair. Ragetti responded by opening his mouth (a hazardous move indeed) and suggesting something that would have done Pintel's teaching proud. Needless to say, he ended up unconscious on the floor. Oh well, thirty years around the older pirate was enough to rot anyone's mind.  
  
By the time this chapter took place, Ragetti's big mouth had been forgotten, and the two fugitives found themselves as able bodied working men. Marita had done all the proper alterations to her late husband's old clothes so that her two employees didn't look like a pair of vagabonds. Even Pintel looked like a man of worth. Miracles do happen. The baker had to purchase him a new pair of shoes, since the man's foot was of an exceptional size even in the local cobbler's experience. Now, one might feel that she took these pains because of the goodness of her heart, but she calculated it in as their non-existing wages.  
  
She kept up the ruse that she told the doctor that they were her very distant cousin and his nephew from the poorer side of her husband's family, that no one really claimed. Each man had acquired a special duty in the business. Ragetti took care of the kitchen and the back, and Pintel took care of the front. This wasn't to say that she was foolhardy enough to trust the older pirate with the money, but she had her reasons and her ways. Pintel knew a little about pastries, he could count change, and he wasn't marked for being a pirate. Not to mention, Ragetti had a real hard time with shoes. It wasn't that the shoes given him were uncomfortable. It was more of the fact that he was used to going barefooted. He also wore his shirt loose and his sleeves rolled up, that tended to reveal the "P" on his arm, and with that wooden eye, he looked more like a pirate. This wasn't to say that she would trust the younger man around the money either. So, when Marita found herself called away on other business, she left the bakery in the hands of the twits, but she wouldn't be gone for more than a couple of hours at most. Pintel took care of the front and the customers. She just literally shook him down to regain her profits of the day, and with the help of St. Peter, she was able to recover the rest of her money.  
  
So, on this bright Wednesday afternoon, Marita went to make arrangements to replenish her supplies. Pintel was left with a feather duster to occupy himself with something other than bugger flinging. She also left him with a severe threat to his manhood should she get more complaints about his crude attitude, unwanted flirtations, bad service, extra goodies in the pastries, and missing articles of value from anyone entering the bakery or even walking in front of it. Although he was more often than not the leader of the two, he wasn't above learning a thing or two from Ragetti on the sly.  
  
Ragetti happily wiped off the tables and swept the floor. He was also to pull the baking pastries from the oven when they were done. He had managed to get this task done right and down to a fine art. His olfactories where connected to his drool glands. He had only burned the donuts twice, and one of those times he was unconscious. When he did get it right, Marita would give him an approving smile, and as long as he kept his mouth shut, he did alright. He had his mind on pleasant little things, that involved Marita in something less than her baker's uniform, as he swept up the dirt and the flour from the floor, when he saw a small round object roll into his path. The tall man stood up straight with puzzlement written all over his face. What else was new! He reached up and touched his wooden eye. It was still in its proper place. So, he poked his real eye to see if it was still there, too. That act caused him to cry out in pain. It was still there.  
  
Another round object rolled across the floor to bump into the first. Curious, the pirate knelt down and picked up two marbles as a third one rolled in. His brows furrowed in confusion, and he pulled back. He followed up the direction the marbles came from. Several more marbles were on the stairs going to Marita's room upstairs. In the shadows stood a little girl in a lacy dark blue dress. Her long curly light brown hair was tied up in a matching dark blue ribbon. Her big dark eyes stared out of a round frightened face at the tall man. She had a striking resemblance to someone Ragetti knew, but he just couldn't place her at the moment.  
  
"Why, 'ello there, poppet!" he exclaimed in a cheerful friendly voice, "Where ya come from?"  
  
The little girl took a step back up the steps. Ragetti picked up the marbles that were now scattered on the floor. He held them up to her in his cupped hands. "These be yours, ain't they?" he inquired, "I know they ain't mine. Lost mine a long time ago," he exclaimed with a smile and a wink of his left eye.  
  
The child smiled back. "Are you one of the bad men that mommy told me to stay away from?"  
  
Ragetti poured the marbles into one hand and scratched his head with the free one. He had to think about this one. His eyes would have crossed with the effort if he had had both of them. "Uh . . ." he answered brilliantly, "I don't think I'm all that bad. 'Course, mum and da, they said I was good fer nuttin'! But Mrs. Marita, that be Pintel's and me's boss, she says I'd make a good baker one day, as soon as I learn the right porpoise of all the stuff. I didn't know that bread 'ad any fish in it! Ne'er tasted fishy to me. Oh well, she says I do make a pretty good stew, though."  
  
The little girl laughed and came the rest of the way down the steps. She looked up at the tall man, and Ragetti gave her one of his big goofy grins. "You're funny!" she exclaimed, "I like you!"  
  
"I like you, too," he answered rather flattered, "Whatcha name, poppet? Me name is Tony."  
  
"I'm Estella," she replied.  
  
Ragetti took her hand and shook it. "Why 'ello, 'Stella! Nice to meet ya!"  
  
She continued to giggle. "I live upstairs with my mommy," she added, as she pointed to where Marita had told them her rooms were.  
  
"Wow! Me boss, she lives upstairs, too!" he cried out incredulously, not quite making the connection. Oh well, no one accused him of being a genius. "Where's yer mommy now?"  
  
"She went out for awhile," she answered as she took the marbles from the tall pirate.  
  
"'Ey! So did our boss!" he added excitedly, "Mebbe yer mommy and me boss, they went out together doin' women things, ya know."  
  
"Want to play marbles with me?" she requested, "I don't have anyone to play with."  
  
Ragetti shrugged and gave another big smile. "Yeah, sure!' he replied.  
  
Within a few minutes, the tall pirate found himself laying flat on the floor with the child. He had the shooter marble in his right hand, and he was taking aim with his non-existing right eye. Needless to say, he was losing to a five year old. So involved was he with the game, he didn't notice the smell of the burning pastries. He didn't notice Pintel's noisy entrance nor his use of his lovely sailor vocabulary as he pulled the blackened croissants from the oven. The only time he took notice of the older pirate was when Pintel came from behind him and whacked him in the back of the head with the bread board. Ragetti's eye popped out, hit all the right marbles, and won the game for him.  
  
Estella jumped up and down and clapped her hands together. "Look!" she cried out, "It's an inksy, and a pinksy, and an eyeball!"  
  
"What's ye think ye doin', ye git!" Pintel complained.  
  
"Playin' marbles with 'Stella," he protested as if it was what he was suppose to be doing all along.  
  
The younger pirate held out his hand to the little girl for his eye. She placed the wooden orb in his waiting hand, and she announced, "That's a great trick! Will you show me how to do it?"  
  
Pintel squinted his eyes at the jovial little girl. "Ye don't reall' wanna know!' he pointed out.  
  
"Oh," she said brightly, "Are you one of the bad men mommy told me about?"  
  
"Nah," Ragetti declined, as he popped his wooden eye back in place. He blinked several times to get it readjusted. "'E be me mate 'Enry."  
  
She giggled and clapped her hands again. "Uncle Tony and Uncle Enry!"  
  
Pintel glared at his partner. "Where'd she come from?" he demanded.  
  
"Pintel! If ye don't know that one, I can't 'elp ye there, mate! I thought ye 'ad four littl' ones back 'ome!":  
  
"I don't mean that, ye numbskull," he snarled, "Where ye find 'er?"  
  
Before Ragetti was able to go into his long drawn out explanation, the drawing back of a hammer to a flint was heard. The two criminals, being used to such sounds being aimed at them, raised their hands and stood up slowly. The little girl pointed to their assailant and cried out, "Mommy!"  
  
Pintel narrowed his eyes and muttered to his companion, "Now what 'ave ye gotten us into now, boy!"  
  
  
  
A/N: I couldn't resist the last line, since the two were based on Laurel and Hardy! :) 


	11. Chapter 11: Tea for Three

And here it is another Saturaday morning and another chapter. This chapter was a bear to get funny. Thank Goodness for Pintel! What can I say, he is more straight forward funny! The sad thing is, usually my male characters that agrovate the heroine this much end up eventually marrying her. Don't worry. Pintel will be returning to his wife someday, but he does play off of Marita well!  
  
Don't hate Marita for this chapter. Remember that she is a mother, she has had a bad marriage, and she is harboring two criminals. Like it or not, that is what Pintel and Ragetti are.  
  
My thanks to all my wonderful reviewers! Hugs to you all. I would throw kisses to you all to, but I think you all female, and so am I! None of that please! :)  
  
To Peipei, I greatly appreciate your reviews as always, and please don't get insulted by my portrayal of Barbosa in this story. you have to remember whose poitn of view this all is. I don't really think Pintel and Ragetti particularly loved the man. They feared him and they loved the rewards that he brought them. My firend James and I are coming up with a story about the judgement of Barbosa's soul, and please, don't shoot me for it!  
  
Thanks to my new reviewers, Bornlevel-pooler and Piratedragon. I bow graciously to you both. Piratedragon is writing a rather interesting little piece about the return of that lovely curse in two different stories. And Bornlevel-pooler aka Undead poet 14, is writing about adventures of Will Turner's old er sister and pirate Arcelia Turner.   
  
Anyone else, who reviews, I will happily read your goodies, trust me!  
  
Fianl note, and this has been too long of a note, I am reposting chapters, but it is mostly proof reading. When I orignally came up with this story, Ragetti was not from England, and now he is. I am changing some wording in Chapter 1 concerning fish and chips, so if I am on your Author Alerts, that is what is going on here.  
  
  
  
Chapter 11: Tea for Three  
  
"What do you two lowlifes think you are doing?" she demanded with a low growl.  
  
"Uh . . ." Ragetti intelligently replied as usual. He felt those disgusting butterflies doing their thing not only in his stomach, but they had migrated to places of his body that no butterfly should flutter. The way that they were eating away at the back of his knees, he could have sworn they were more like moths than butterflies. He bit his lower lip and squinted his eyes close. This wasn't the first time he had been on the receiving end of a musket, pistol, bayonet, or any other kind of firearm. He had spent most of his life in such compromising positions.  
  
"We di'n't do an'thing wrong this time!" Pintel complained, "All I did was come in 'ere and pulled out burnt pastries!"  
"There are reasons I give you nitwits rules, and I expect you to follow them!" she yelled at them.  
  
The two men cringed, and Lucy crawled under the table. Finally, the smaller pirate sighed and lowered his hands. Marita eyed him warily as he moved to the table. He dug through his pockets and pulled out a small bag of coins, Mr. Brown's pocket watch, Mrs. Elliston's gold earrings, Captain Gillette's purse, his pistol, and his gold cuff links, not to mention other sundries from the populace of Port Royal, that defied the laws of space for any man's pockets. "Now, ye can put 'side the bloody blaster. Ya wouldn't be wantin' blood shed in front of the littl' miss, and 'sides, Ragetti nor me feel much inclined 'bout cleanin' the other's blood, body parts, and other things from the floor, stove, tables, each other, and anything else in the way."  
The withering stare turned directly at him was strong enough to kill a young healthy palm tree. Oh well, he'd seen worse. He sighed dejectedly and with a mild pout, and he pulled out Gillette's sword from his pants leg and laid it on the table along with Mrs. Powers ruby necklace and matching bracelet, and finally, with a great effort, he laid young Miss Clavert's corset on the table. "Ya be a 'ard woman, Mrs. Marita!" he grumped.  
  
She looked at the vast collection on her table with disgust. She wasn't about to ask about the how and why he stole the corset, and why he was petting it so lovingly with that lecherous smile of his on his lips. She was only gone for two hours! She shook off the disturbing thoughts and turned her fierce glower upon the older pirate. "That's not what I mean, you scurvy dog! My rooms and my child are my business!" she barked, as she buried the musket into Ragetti's golden hair.  
  
A startled whimper came from the younger man. His eyes grew wide and his mouth was agape. He felt those darn butterflies invaded his bladder. "I-I di'n't go upstairs, ma'am. I've been in the kitchen the 'ole time!" He pointed out with the hope of appeasing her. "'Stella, she came to me. She was losin' 'er marbles, ye see . . ."  
  
The little girl put her hands behind her back. Her cheeks turned a deep shade of red, as she looked down at her feet. She shuffled a bit as Marita's scrutiny fell on her. "I told you to stay away from the bad men downstairs!" she spoke sternly holding back her intense anger.  
  
"Uncle Tony and Uncle 'Enry aren't bad men," she protested, "They were really nice to me and really fun to play with. Uncle 'Enry says the funniest things, and Uncle Tony plays marbles with me. They aren't mean like daddy used to be."  
  
"Enough, young lady!" she cried out with more fear than actual anger, "Go to your room NOW!"  
  
The child bit her lower lip and held back the tears. Pintel scowled at the mistress of the bakery, as he crossed his arms. He could be his bold obnoxious self. After all, it had been a few minutes since the musket was trained on him. "Bit 'arsh on 'er, don't ye think?" Pintel remarked. She turned on him. Her blazing eyes met with his. He had seen a mother tiger's eyes like that once, as he held onto one of her squirming cubs. There was no one there to yank him away this time. Ragetti was otherwise occupied in keeping control of his bladder, and Lucy just whimpered under the table.  
  
"You keep out of this!" she demanded, as she gave him another intense killer look. The older pirate only smirked. He'd seen worse from Mrs. Pintel.  
  
Ragetti started to think about all those prayers for this particular situation that his mother had tried to teach him. He just wished that Rachel, in her lack of clothing, that more times than not revealed more than what was tastefully accepted, was not so much on his mind then. If he hadn't been trying to figure out how to acquire three shillings for her esteemed services, he might have learned something useful. Given that his rescue from this particular problem rested in a man, who had the tendency of mooning the Royal Navy every time they came close enough to port, he didn't feel too confident in the preservation of his life, and he best be thinking about that afterlife thing.  
  
"Well, seein' 'ow it is that ye got the barrel of a musket aimed at me partner's 'ead, I believe I be in this al'eady. 'E's 'ard 'nough to be 'round with that pea brain of 'is, and I ain't gonna 'bouts with 'im 'eadless and all. 'Sides, I be the one to be cleanin' up 'is mess! I 'ave got 'nough work to try and get out of as it is."  
  
The taller pirate swallowed the lump in his throat. He started praying to any god out there that might hear his plea, including the heathen Aztec gods that once cursed him. Oh well, at least they knew each other. Tears started to roll down his cheeks. It wasn't like this was the first time he was held at the mercy of a woman, but Eliza had removed the dagger from his throat as soon as he handed over all his money and got out of her bed. This situation was a bit different.  
  
"Mommy!" Estella cried out, "You're making Uncle Tony cry! You are being mean like daddy used to be!"  
  
"I told you to go to your room, Estella! I mean it! Do what you are told!"  
  
"But, mommy!" she sniffed.  
  
"Go now!!" she demanded, "I will deal with you later!"  
The little girl pouted and ran up the steps in tears. The baker pulled the musket away from Ragetti's head, and the tall man fell to his knees, relieved in more than one way. She lowered her weapon, and she looked to each of them in their turn.  
  
"Let me make this absolutely clear. Stay away from my daughter or else one of you . . ." She gave a meaningful glance to Ragetti, who didn't notice because of his weeping, " . . . will met his end by St. Peter." She looked at the defiant Pintel. "The other will find himself unconscious and soon at the end of a noose. Is that understood?"  
  
"Yes, Mrs. Marita," Ragetti answered obediently through a cracked voice, as he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.  
  
She gave a sidelong glance to Pintel. "Hmpf!" answered the older pirate, "I like me women a bit older," he grunted, as he went back to the front of the bakery.  
  
"I mean especially you, you foul mouthed lousy piece of mule manure!" she shouted after him, as she went to follow him. She paused at the doorway. The younger pirate quietly picked up the marbles. "Clean up your mess," she ordered him, as she continued to the main part of the bakery. She would blow off her steam with the abuse to the one who most needed it, then she could calmly deal with her daughter.  
  
Two days later, Marita went out to make the final arrangements to get the goods for the bakery delivered. The household had been quiet since the incident with Estella. Of course, a lot of this had to do with the lack of the rum flow. No one felt inclined to cross Marita again. Lucy just sat behind the counter and looked up at Pintel as if it was all his fault. The pirate was none too happy with Marita either. She had returned all his rightfully stolen goods to the proper owners. How was a pirate to make a living in this place!  
Ragetti continued to clean the kitchen, but Marita had not offered to show him anything new about the baking. He had not only enjoyed the attention given him and having someone believed that he could actually do something right for a change, but he enjoyed being near her. He touched the little pouch of marbles he had tied to his belt. He'd never been a father before, and it wasn't for the lack of trying. He sighed and returned to his normal routine right down to the images of Marita in differing states of undress. He hummed, then sang (and not too badly. His voice wasn't all that good, but, at least, it wouldn't make Lucy howl in pain.) a bit of a dirty pirate ditty, that Pintel did teach him, as he swept the dirt on the floor towards himself. He stepped backwards and swept, stepped backwards and swept, stepped backwards and stumbled over Estella, who had appeared out of nowhere. He dropped the broom with a cry.  
  
Estella covered her mouth as she giggled at the frightened man. He recovered himself and coughed briefly. He turned around and knelt down to the girl. "What are ye doin' 'ere, poppet? Ya got me and Pintel in a might bit of trouble."   
  
"Sorry, uncle Tony. I was lonely, me and Miss Alice," she answered, as she held up a fancy dressed rag doll.  
  
"Why, hi there, Miss Alice. Glad to met ya," Ragetti greeted with a nod of his head.  
  
"Uncle Tony, what's 'the grand ole brothel in Piccadily'?" she asked sweetly.  
  
The pirate's face turned twenty shades of red and his tongue felt like lead. "Uh . . ." he answered, then he remembered the girl's marbles. He undid the pouch and handed them to her. "Ye forgot 'em the other day. Ye must keep track of yer marbles!" he told her hurriedly.  
  
"Thank you, Uncle Tony," she said with a proper little curtsy. "Miss Alice and me, we would like to know if you would like to come to our tea party?"  
  
Ragetti opened his mouth to deny her request, but she flashed those big dark eyes up at him. His shoulders drooped. Oh well, one must die someday. He gave her a big carefree smile. "Ne'er been invited to a tea party 'fore!"  
  
"Miss Alice say for you to bring the crumpets," the child added.  
  
"Alright," he answered. He looked at the different pastries and breads he had pulled from the oven in confusion. "Uh, which ones are the crumpets?" he asked.  
  
The little girl laughed and pointed out the little cakes. He nodded and picked out three of them, then he followed her upstairs.  
  
Marita returned from her business. The delivery would be that evening. She entered the bakery to find Pintel leaning back in a chair with his feet on the counter and completely engrossed in picking his nose. She frowned and coughed loudly. He continued to ignore her and continued to dig for those buried treasures. She grabbed hold of one of his ankles forcefully and made him fall from the precarious chair and land hard on his backside. He quickly got up, and she grabbed him by the collars.  
  
"Yes?" he asked nonchalantly.  
  
"Where's the feather duster I gave you? You need to do some cleaning instead of sitting around doing nothing!"  
  
"Oh, was that what that stick with the feathers was fer? It made one hell of a great back scratcher once Lucy ate all the feathers off of it."  
  
She dropped the obnoxious little man to the floor, as she turned her glare at the large black dog behind the counter in the corner amongst the ruined feathers. Her intense glare made the giant devil dog whine and cringe. She sighed exasperated and shook her head.  
  
"Clean up this mess," she ordered.  
  
She huffed her way into the kitchen. She stopped dead in the silent empty room. She frowned. Trays of pastries were laid out on the tables, and nothing was in the oven. That was the good part. Her worker was nowhere to be seen. She returned to the front. It was best not to discuss what the dog and the man were doing with the destroyed feathers. Lucy looked up and wrinkled his brow in confusion. Pintel looked no better. She threw up her hands. She gave up! She wasn't about to ask either.  
  
"Where's that cur Ragetti?" she demanded, somewhat fearing the answer.  
  
Pintel looked up from his collected feather fuzz. "What do I look like?" He didn't want to know that answer! "'Is keeper? I ain't that daft!"  
  
"I take it you don't know," she answered bluntly.  
  
"'E were sweeping the last time I saw 'im," he replied, as he spat out some of the feather fuzz. "'E could be out doin' that call of nature thing, ya know. 'E's been tryin' out new things in the stew, and some of 'em things don't sit too well down in the belly. The boy be a bit shy a few upstairs, ya know . . ."  
  
Suddenly something terrible dawned on her. She ran from the store front and through the kitchen to her rooms. She found her lost employee. He was sitting cheerfully at a miniature table with his long legs sprawled out at either side. He sipped from a blue and white china cup. The rag doll sat to his right with a full tea cup and a an untouched crumpet on her plate. Ragetti's crumpet was a fond memory and only a few crumbs remained on his plate. Estella stood to the left with the tea pot in hand. Her place setting had a full cup of tea and crumpet cake with a few delicate bites missing out of it.  
  
The little girl curtsied to the pirate. "More, tea, sir?" she asked fitting well into her part of the proper lady.  
  
"Thank ye, mi lady," he answered, trying to do his proper role. She filled his cup. he turned to the rag doll and asked, "Will ye be eatin' that crumpet, ma'am?" he continued, "Can I 'ave it then?"  
  
Marita put her fists to her hips and cleared her throat loudly. "What do you think you are doing up here?" she demanded. Somehow, she was not as angry as the other day.  
  
Ragetti leaned backwards and looked up at her grim foreboding face. "I be 'avin' tea with Miss 'Stella and Miss Alice, if ye please. Miss Alice said that I 'ad to bring the crumpets since I was the one who worked in the bake'y and all."  
  
"Not only are you not allowed around my daughter, but you are strictly forbidden to go upstairs!"  
"Oh yeah," Ragetti exclaimed as his eyes grew wide with the sudden enlightenment that dawned on him. This may well have been a brand new experience for him.  
  
Having rushed up the steps in such a hurry, she had forgotten her faithful business partner St. Peter. Oh well, not only was she not as mad as she thought she would be, but she would have to clean up the mess that the musket made. So, she grabbed him physically by the collar and dragged him across the floor. He cheerfully waved "Bye" to the little ladies. Marita dropped him on the steps and gave him a proper push with her foot. He landed soundly in the kitchen and his wooden eye popped out to roll across the floor. "And stay out! " Marita shouted down at him. The door slammed with an ominous bang.  
  
Pintel, with the remains of feathers stuck in the most unusual places, stood at the doorway to the store front. He stopped the happily rolling eye with his foot and shook his head at the disheveled mess of his partner.  
  
"Ye are goin' to be the death of yerself yet!" the older pirate remarked, as he stuck the eye in Ragetti's hand. 


	12. Chapter 12: Dough Wars

My thank yous out to you wonderful readers yet again. Chapter 12 already! My, my. And trust me, there is more trouble to come. I have plottings in my head up to and through Chapter 16. Oh my, indeed!  
  
Thank you, Pei Pei. As always, your reviews are most appreciated. Hope you will be writing about Ritchie soon again!  
  
And thank you to Biscayne, one of my few male reviewers. Glad you don't think is good. I'm flattered.  
  
Beware to all, I have a rough draft of a new humorous PotC story called "Atonements of Sin", and hopefully I will get a chance to type and write it this week some time. . . . and Pei Pei, don't kill me because what I will do to Barbosa! It ain't good to be dead and damned in any of my stories! And it's James' fault! :)  
  
This story will take priority, so don't fret it, if you are a follower.  
  
On with the show . . .  
  
Chapter 12: Dough Wars  
  
After a successful weekend of fine boozing and old fashion womanizing with the meager wages, that Marita gave them for their work at the bakery, the two pirates were penniless once again and obviously in no condition to work Monday morning, but they managed it all the same. It had been three weeks that they had been at the bakery, and this was the first weekend of real partying. The first two weeks, Pintel was in not feeling much like doing partying due to his illness and his recovery from it. The week after, he was still feeling a bit weak. By this time, most of the authorities gave up on finding them. Actually, they didn't put out much of an effort in the first place, and the commodore and just about the rest of the Royal Navy in Port Royal denied their existence in the first place. So, it was rather safe for them to slunk around town (especially since Pintel had been running the front part of the bakery periodically, and he hadn't been arrested yet), but all the same, they chose to sneak out the window under the cover of darkness on Saturday night, and they headed for some of the finer establishments like "The Drunken Boar", "The Bloody Cock", and "The Three and a Shilling Lady" on the rougher side of town, that no one talked about much, and where, regardless of the best efforts of the commodore and his men, there were more than enough pirates, and a pirate could be a true pirate there. Many things exchanged pockets, Pintel and Ragetti got more than their fair share of threats, and Ragetti's wooden eye got to do more exotic pocket travel than anything should ever do! Oh well, some pirates weren't too choosey and would steal anything. Pintel and Ragetti felt just like they were back home again on any number of pirate ships that they had served.  
  
Pintel got to share himself with many of the "lovely ladies" of the local cat house and made a couple successful hits upon the madam. Ragetti got drunk, and his lady companion robbed him blind, but she left his wooden eye in place and left him his pants. Oh well, he thought, he at least he had a good time, didn't have to track down his wooden eye, and didn't have to walk home butt naked. Things were back to normal for them. Come the wee hours of Monday morning, the two spent pirates found themselves face down in the mud just outside the last tavern they had hit.  
  
So, after a long stagger home and 45 minutes of sleep in their mud soaked clothes, Marita's wake up call did nothing for them. Lucy bit Pintel in the butt and got the older pirate up and at them all the way to the tub. After all, the squat little man didn't bring home any rum.  
  
Marita, having very little aversion to slimy icky things (After all, she had housed Pintel and Ragetti for near a month), she pulled Ragetti up bodily, popped out his wooden eye. She dropped him heavily back to the bed, held the eye up between her index finger and thumb, and announced in no uncertain terms that she was going to use this bit for firewood, if a certain one eyed man did not get out of bed NOW! The tall man was soon up and ready to do his morning chores without more complaint.  
  
Monday was Marita's shopping day. She usually bought food for the household and other things of need. She often brought home something for herself and Estella while she was out. Ragetti added wood oil for his eye to her list, and Pintel's request was better left unsaid, and they both requested more rum, and Lucy exclamated that last one. She turned to leave the bakery, then she paused with a final thought. She turned back to her grinning employees and gave them their usual warnings and threats about stay out of trouble (and other people's pockets), do their work (for a change), and stay away from her daughter. She then left. Pintel made a crude comment, and Ragetti headed back to the kitchen.  
  
The tall lanky man went about his usual work in the kitchen and worked on a concoction for that award winning hangover that he and Pintel both had. Oh well, they had ten years of partying to make up for and ten years of hangovers to go with it. He tried to remember the ingredients for that hangover remedy that Pintel had taught him some time ago. He got the raw eggs and the hot sauce, but somehow adding the toadstools didn't seem right. Needless to say, the two pirates found themselves outside more often than not retching. After some hours of losing all the goodies introduced to their stomachs in the last 24 hours, they finally purged their systems of all argumentivce alcoholic beverages and anything else that may have been down there. The headaches were still there. Pintel was not his usual lecherous self and gave decent customer service for a change, and most customers left with their possessions in tact.  
  
Ragetti did the baking and the cleaning without any musical interludes or any baking experiments. The strawberry and jalapeno muffins he made Friday afternoon didn't go over too well. Once Marita found out about this special recipe, Ragetti found himself unconscious on the floor for two hours, and he woke to find a butcher knife in his hand with his wooden eye on the end of it.  
  
He was minding his own business, as he stirred the batter for the donuts. When Marita allowed him to do this, she didn't have in mind that he would be taste testing it as often as he was in the habit of doing. Rather pleased with the taste, he continued stirring and taste testing. After all, he had lost his breakfast and anything else on his stomach. He felt a tug at his shirt tail. For all the efforts that Marita put into making the taller man presentable, Ragetti was still a slob at heart, and there was only so much that could be done. She didn't have to put much effort forth to get him to comb his hair and to get him to bathe, as before mentioned. Although she could not get him to wear a tie or the shoes, she did, at least, try to get him to tuck his shirt in. Well, the front part was neatly tucked in, but the back hung out in its usual sloppy manner. At the tug, he waved his hand behind his back to shoo away the interruption. The tugging happened again. He turned his head to look over his right shoulder and saw nothing as usual. He had been without his right eye since he was 12, and he still didn't get it.  
  
The yanking on the shirt tail was more insistent. "Uncle Tony?" came Estella's little voice.  
  
He dropped his stirring ladle into the pastry batter. He remembered certain severe threats that Marita had made Friday, when she caught him, Pintel, and Lucy playing spinning the bottle with Estella. The thought made him cringe and pull his legs in tight. His eyes opened wide in fear. Such was his shock, his wooden eye fell out and into the batter. He uttered a curse that would have done Pintel proud and created new and unique threats from Marita, if she knew such words were said before her daughter. He dug his hand into the batter to retrieve his favorite wooden companion.  
  
Estella giggled, and she climbed up on the preparation table with the aid of a chair. She threw her doll Miss Alice on the table, then she followed in her frilly red dress and perfect little patent leather shoes. She managed to get flour in many and various places not thought possible by merely climbing onto a table. She sat up on her knees and smiled brightly at him.  
  
"I can help you, uncle Tony," she offered happily, as she dipped her delicate little hands into the batter, managing to get more stuff on her dress.  
  
Pintel, with a tea biscuit hanging from his mouth (He had an empty stomach, too, due to Ragetti's fine hangover remedy, too.), came through the door. Lucy flanked his footsteps. He came in on the pretense that he needed more pastries . . . well, he did eat a few between customers and some were eaten while waiting on customers (and even belonging to the customers). Actually, he was feeling better and was rather bored, and he felt his younger companion needed some good old fashion harassment. He came in with a mouth opened and half digested cookie crumbs therein, and his jaws dropped further and he spewed crumbs everywhere at the sight of the two digging around in the bowl. This was going to be easier than he thought. The older pirate put on a look of chagrin, although the two just made his job that much easier.  
  
"Whatcha think ya doin'?" the smaller man remarked, as he squinted his eyes at the two.  
  
"I lost me eye in the batter," the taller pirate answered as if this was a normal occurrence . . . well, for Ragetti, it was.  
  
"Ye 'n' that bloody eye! Sometimes I think Bo'sun 'ad the right of it, mate, and ye should nail the bloody thing in yer socket!" he growled.  
  
Ragetti looked up at his companion with a hurt expression on his face. "I di'n't like Bo'sun much. 'E were always mean to me! 'Sides, if I did that, it would 'urt like bloody 'ell!"  
  
"Oh quit bein' a bloody bab'!" the other complained, "Just give it up and get ya a new one!" He sauntered over to them, took some of the dough from the bowl, and rolled it up in a ball. Ragetti looked at his with his usual confused expression, as Pintel took his face in his hand, opened wide the empty eye socket and shoved the ball of dough in it. "Good as new!" he remarked.  
  
Startlement replaced the confusion on Ragetti's face. The dough caused the existing tear ducts to run, and the dough soon slide down his cheek, and instead of the satisfying bounce that the wooden orb had, the dough just squelched on the floor.  
  
Pintel shrugged and said, "Oh well, it was worth a try."  
  
The younger man narrowed his one good eye and his empty eye socket at his smirking companion and his often daft mentor. "That eye be special to me. Me da gave it to me," he replied rather insulted.  
  
"It would be the only thing that he gave ye," Pintel goaded him.  
  
"Well, that ain't exactly so. 'E gave me the flu once . . ." he replied.  
  
"I bet ya really enjoyed that one, di'n't ye!" the older man smirked.  
  
"Uh . . . well . . ." Ragetti answered as he stood up straight and scratched the back of his head, therefore getting flour and dough in his hair and all over his face. Estella pointed at him laughed. The tall pirate turned to her, frowned, and splatted her on the ribboned head with a handful of dough.  
  
She stopped laughing. She stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth, balled up a handful of dough and hit Ragetti with it.  
  
Pintel snickered at them, and he was bombarded with dough. Not being the type to be made a target without inflicting his own damage, he gathered up a sizeable handful of dough from a different mixing bowl and dropped it down his tall companion's pants.  
  
"Now Marita will think ya be a bigger man than what ya really are!" he chided.  
  
The younger man's face went from red shock to pale white shock. "Pintel!" he cried out, "Not in front of the littl' lady!"  
  
Estella fell backwards on the table in laughter. She pointed to Ragetti and exclaimed, "Uncle Tony has got a load in his pants!"  
  
"Oh hush!" Ragetti told her, as he splatted her with some more dough.  
  
Soon there was flying dough everywhere. Lucy, although being a rather lazy dog at heart, got in on the action. He snatched up a flying bomb every once and awhile and chomped it down.  
  
So engrossed with their activities, no one noticed the jingle of the front door bell. No one noticed the determined no nonsense foot falls coming across the floor. No one noticed the opening of the kitchen door. No one noticed Marita, with crossed arms and tapping her foot with anger and impatience, at the doorway. She was finally noticed when she became the prime target of three sloppy throws of dough. The irate glare made Lucy cringe and crawl whining under the table. Ragetti tried to give that innocent, but nervous, grin. Pintel only shrugged and licked dough off of his face. Estella took up Miss Alice and moved to the edge of the table and swung her feet over the edge. She smiled up at Marita.  
  
"Hi, mommy!" she chirped.  
  
An ominous silence fell over the bakery kitchen, as she walked across the disaster area. Lucy hid his head under his paws. She pulled a sizeable lump of dough from her clothes, as she approached Ragetti. The hardened pirate of many not so grand adventures backed away from her approach. She pulled out his hand and slammed the ball of dough in his hand.  
  
Terror fled his face and was replaced with vast relief. "Thank ye, ma'am!" he replied happily as he uncovered his wooden eye out of the dough.  
  
So, after a long lecture about wasting the bakery's material, making an ungodly mess, and associating with her daughter and teaching her bad habits after her numerous rather butchering threats, the two pirates set about cleaning up their mess. Lucy helped by eating up some of the dough. Pintel would just have to clean up the end results later on. The two men were happy enough to keep the mess on their personages (They had had lots worse things on them and kept it there for some time!), although Ragetti would really appreciated getting the load out of his pants. It was a tad bit uncomfortable. Marita saw things differently and insisted that they get the dough off of themselves. This took some doing and by the time they were done, it was past dinner time and time for bed. The bakery mistress was of the opinion that they did not deserve dinner after their antics, but they did some convincing sad eye looks at her. After all, they were famished after that hangover antidote. She gave an exasperated sigh and relented. They would cause more trouble on an empty stomach. 


	13. Chapter 13: Aces High

A/N: Howdy, and yes, I am several hours late. It got a lot coller here, and I want to nap! Not to mention, this is a really long chapter. This will be the last chapter with Estella playing games with the guys. That isn't to say that she won't be in the story, but enough mischief, and it is time to move on. Amusingly enough, I was wearing an Iron Maiden T-shirt when I wrote this. Ironic, eh!  
  
Anyway, thanks goes out to PeiPei, as always. And Thank you deeply for reviewing "Atonement of Sins". I hope to write some chapters on that one in the near future. And yes, I kind of feel sorry for the other pirates of Barbossa's crew also. It is a horrible thing to face execution, better to die as true pirates at the end of a sword.  
  
Thank you, Piratedragon for the review! Your stories rock, also!  
  
I will be catching up to everyone's stories soon. I have been deeply immersed in Harry Potter. Shame on me! But if one is write a FF, it would be adviseable to read the book! And thanks to all of you, this story now has over 1,000 hits and 30 reiviews! I'm proud! This is doing better than "The Quest for the Purple Unicorn" on Fictionpress, and it has 46 chapters!  
  
Chapter 13: Aces High  
  
Since Ragetti was usually the one that Estella went to first while she was away, Marita chose to have the tall lanky man do the indoor chores first thing in the morning, leaving Pintel more than enough bake goods to last him through the afternoon hours. Ragetti got stuck with firewood and laundry duties in the meantime while she was gone to deal with the weekly supplies. The one eyed man did not mind the chores in the least. Well, the laundry bit could be quite fun, especially for one of the proper imagination. Besides, it was safer to have Ragetti clean her personal effects. They tended to return to her clean, unlike the time she had Pintel do the laundry. She was still missing interesting pieces of clothing after that experience.  
  
After all, she felt it was now safe to leave Estella to her rooms for the afternoon with the younger pirate outside and otherwise occupied. She didn't like taking her along because it was too much of a burden on both of them. Estella would get bored with the waiting around and the grown ups' talk, and she would tend to wander or do other mischief. This way, Marita could put whole concentration in to her work ahead of her, and not have to worry about what the five year old was up to. Of course, she did not count on the intelligence or the determination of her daughter.  
  
The mistress of the bakery left before noon. Of course, she spent her good half an hour giving Pintel his usual series of new and unique threats, and if he produced another corset while she was out, he'd wear it Thursday morning as he waited on customers. The wide toothy grin he gave her sent icicles down her back.  
  
No more than a quarter of an hour after her departure, Estella crept cautiously down the steps to a silent kitchen in another fine frilly red dress and her hair done in perfect little finger curls. She clutched her similarly dressed doll in her arms. She bounced around the kitchen and looked for her friend with her dark eyes wide and sharp, but she saw no movement. "Uncle Tony?" she queried in a sweet voice, but she received no answer.  
  
She crept across the kitchen to the door to their room. Being trained in the proper manners, she knocked gently, but she received no answer, So, she carefully turned the doorknob and opened the door. She poked her head in. The brilliant sunlight streaming through the single window illuminated the horror. The room had got into an incredible state of disarray over the last two days. There were dirty clothes strewn throughout. One could no longer distinguish where the beds ended and the pile began, muchless see the floor. There were dirty stockings in some of the most interesting place: Hanging from the oil lamps, on the table tops, hanging half way out of the dresser drawers with other accessories included, more socks between the bed frame and the mattress. There was a pair of exceptionally dirty pair of stockings fitted over the bedposts of Ragetti's bed. There was even a dirty stocking dipped in the cup where Ragetti's wooden eye shared its nighttime rest with a pretty red native flower. He felt that it needed the luxuries of home also. There was a stocking fitted over an empty bottle by Pintel's bed. One of Ragetti's shirts was wrapped around his pillow, and if Marita explored further, she would have found some her missing lingerie under there. There were discerning lumps in Pintel's bed, that no one would dare venture to explore. There were two pairs of pants, a shirt, and a petticoat hanging over the closet door, that would no longer close. Other than the dirty laundry everywhere, dirty plates and empty bottles were scattered around. There was a pair of rather contented rats sleeping on an empty plate on the dresser. There was an assortment of other things that didn't quite rightly belong in either one of their possessions littered about the mess, and most of this disaster happened since Monday.   
  
Estella gulped and silently turned about and shut the door. She did not dare explore this new jungle and face what other kind of beasties that may lurk within. She went to the cellar door with trembling fingers, she turned the knob, and the door creaked opened. She swallowed hard and took a step backwards. There was a different kind of trepidation there. Something deep inside of her reached up and grabbed her voice away, and she stood there frozen for hour long minutes with shaking knees. Finally, she squeaked and slammed the door shut and threw her weight against it. She panted hard and clutched her doll close to her rapidly beating heart. She bit her lower lip hard and held back the tears. It would never do to let her friends see her cry.  
  
That left the door to the front of the bakery, where she could hear "Uncle Henry's" entertaining dialogs with customers, and the door to the outside, that was propped open ajar by a ratty boot from a foot of an enormous size. Being the bright child that she was, she correctly surmised that the boot belonged to "Uncle Henry". She could hear "Uncle Tony" whistling happily from the outside, then there was the fall of the ax and the splintering of wood. She went to the door and sneaked out.  
  
Ragetti chopped wood on the block that he and Pintel had seen on their first day they were there. He had discarded his shirt long ago and his lean now quite sunburned scarred back was to Estella, as he gathered the chopped pieces of wood and threw them in the sizeable pile to the side of the building. Then he turned to pick up his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. He caught the glimpse of Estella off to his left. He jumped startled, and his face would have turned interesting shades of red if it were not so sunburned and red already from the heat of exertion. He hurriedly pulled the shirt over his back.  
  
"You've got scars like mommy," the little girl somberly pointed out with a frown, "Did you make your . . . little girl's daddy mad too?"  
  
Other than feeling amazingly confused even for him, Ragetti was feeling bit more than a touch embarrassed. He scratched his head in thought, then answered, "I don't 'ave a littl' girl, and if I did, I think I might be the da . . ."  
  
"Oh," she answered, "Then who hurt you then? Did your daddy hit you a lot, too?"  
  
"Well . . . uh . . . sometimes, but 'e di'n't do me back up like this. I . . .uh . . . well got in trouble with the law a lot, and me last captain, 'e di'n't like me much neither. 'E thought me a bit daft."  
  
"You were on a ship once, Uncle Tony?" she inquired excitedly.  
  
"Yep!" he replied, as he tugged at the collars of his shirt. "Me and 'Enry, we've been on all kinds of ships."  
  
"Mommy and I have watched the ships from the dock. Have we ever seen your ship?" she queried with bright eyes.  
  
"Uh . . . well, probably not. We were 'ere at night last time. We 'ad a nice little black ship with black sails," he answered.  
  
It was Estella's turn to be confused for a change. "Daddy told mommy and me tales about an awful black ship with black sails that was runned by horrible monsters, and they killed anyone they came across."  
  
Ragetti swallowed hard and had to think of something. He knew he was really in trouble now! He should learn to keep his big mouth shut. "Well," he said, as he scratched his head, then he went to the barrel full of water and ducked his head into the water to wash off his face and hair and cool himself off from the heat. He looked up at her from the surface of the water, then he ducked his head lower and blew bubbles to the surface to try and entertain her and distract her from her awkward questions, that he really did not want to answer. He pulled his head up and began to shook his head and hair out. It worked. She giggled as she held up her hands to shield herself from the spray of water.  
  
"I 'ave to do the laundry still," he explained to her, as he picked up the basket of clothes just outside the door.  
  
"Oh! Can I help?" she asked enthusiastically.  
  
The rather sunburned pirate frowned down at her, but she knew how to get around him. She gave him those big sad dark eyes with those big puffy cheeks just ready to pout. He let out an exasperated breath. "Oh, alright," he answered, as he carried the clothes off to the wash tub. He was doing his assigned work still. After a good hour and a half of washing and hanging up the clothes and Marita's fineries (and Ragetti putting away his usual naughty thoughts because of present company) and having a good old fashion suds fight, the two finally headed back to the shelter and the shade of the bakery. Estella, who was in less than the perfect prim condition than she started followed behind him, with a now dirty dress and sagging curls.  
  
"Aren't you going to do the laundry in your room?" she asked cheerfully, not wanting the fun to end.  
  
"Nah, it just got comfortable in there," he told her.  
  
Pintel gave Mrs. Bennett a nod and a thank you, as she moved her sizeable form out of the door. Behaving himself for some reason, that only the fates knew, he waited until the door closed behind her before he muttered, "Bitch!"  
  
Lucy looked up and barked his approval. Mrs. Bennett had given him a donut, so she was alright in his book.  
  
"Who asked ya!" the pirate growled as he went to his chair behind the counter. He propped himself back and pulled out a lady's purse from his shirt and poured the contents into his hand. "Cheap bitch!" he added, as he counted the coins, "Criminy! Only five Shillin's. I went through all of that fer only five shillin's!"  
"Business bad, eh?" Ragetti commented as he entered the front. The other grumbled a not so nice comment. "Can me and me 'elper 'ave a couple of donuts?" he asked brightly.  
  
Estella smiled up at the older pirate hopefully. "Bah! What's this look like?" he grouched, "Charity?"  
  
"Uh?" Ragetti replied.  
  
"We live here!" the little girl insisted goodheartedly.  
  
"Well," Pintel answered after a moment's thought, "I guess if ye put it that way . . ." He produced a donut from the case. The little girl gave a squeal of delight. Lucy go up from his corner and came over to sniff her prize. "Now, ye listen 'ere, ye greed' laz' mutt! Get 'way! Ye've 'ad three a'ready!"  
Estella laughed and gave the big black dog half of the pastry. Lucy swallowed it without chewing or tasting it, then he gave the girl a big slobbery doggie kiss.  
  
"What 'bouts mine?" Ragetti complained disappointed.  
  
The older man gave him that lopsided squint. "Ye ain't cute 'nough," he grunted.  
  
Ragetti gave him that bright happy stupid grin with his one blue eye shining.  
  
"Now, that ain't fair, boy!" he growled, as he handed his taller companion a donut. Lucy, having his priorities straight and very little loyalties, went over to the younger man to beg. Feeling more than a bit jealous, Pintel pulled another donut from the case and tossed it to the dog. "No wonder ya be such a big mutt!"  
"Uncle Tony and I played in the laundry water outside," the youngster told the smaller pirate merrily, "Can we play a game in here, too?"  
  
"Well, little lady, we can't be 'avin' a water fight in 'ere, but I'm pretty good at booger flingin'," he told her as stood up proud of himself.  
  
"'Ey, Pintel, why don't we show 'er 'ow to play poker!" Ragetti prompted to cover for his partner's special talent (and besides, he didn't feel he had enough boogers to compete at this time).  
  
"Neither of ye got any money! What good would it be," the older man complained, "and I ain't playing no strip poker with ya! I ain't got no desire to see ye naked!"  
  
Pintel!" Ragetti cried out, "Not with the littl' lady!"  
  
The older man shrugged it off. "And what then do ye plan to use fer bets?"  
  
"Well," Ragetti replied as he scratched his the back of his neck. He screwed up his face in the effort of deep thoughts. His brain was going to go on strike with this much unusual activity going on there. "'Stella got 'er marbles, and me, I got some nice walnuts," he finally answered.  
  
Pintel narrowed his eyes at him. "No one be wantin' yer nuts, boy!"  
  
No one noticed the flushed face of the sunburned pirate. Pintel threw up his hands and produced a mason jar from under the counter. It was full of golden cuff links. "A'right, 'ere be me wagers," he added. "I were savin' 'em fer a rain' day, but they are just as useless as yer nuts."  
  
"Now all we be needin' is some cards," Ragetti pointed out.  
  
"Oh!" exclaimed Estella. "My daddy used to have cards! They would be put away with his other things . . ." her voice lowered, as she looked down to her feet, " . . . in the cellar."  
  
"We're set then!" Ragetti announced happily, "'Stella gets the cards and 'er marbles, and I'll get me walnuts . . ."  
The little girl's face fell, and Pintel got out of his chair and knelt in front of her. "What's wrong, poppet?"  
  
"I'm afraid of the cellar," she replied, "Daddy once told me there's a troll down there . . ."  
  
Ragetti smiled broadly and suppressed the giggles, as he pointed to Pintel. The older pirate eyed him, and smirked. "Yeah, well," he told her, as he looked pointedly up at his companion, "Sometimes there's a cyclops down there, too." Ragetti just looked confused again.  
  
Estella looked up at the taller the man. He knelt down to her, too. "Ah, don't ye be worryin'," he told her, "I will go down there with ye."  
  
She looked up at him uncertain, but the smaller pirate butted in. "If there be a monster down there, ye be surprised at 'ow fast Uncle Tony can run!"  
  
"'E means that I be the biggest coward e'er born, and I ain't 'fraid of the cellar, but if there be a monster down there, I'll be real good at gettin' us 'way."  
  
"Well, . . . alright," she finally agreed.  
  
Ragetti swept her up onto his shoulders and carried her across the kitchen to the cellar. She gasped as the tall man took hold of the door knob. He threw opened the door and crouched and ducked inside, careful not to bang Estella on the low ceiling. The fingers of Estella's little hand grasped his shoulder tightly, and she screwed her eyes tightly closed. Once at the bottom, he went over to his usual haunt and picked up the evening rum.  
  
"It be safe. poppet," he told her, as he patted her knee over his shoulder. "Ye can open yer eyes now."  
  
"Uncle Tony, " she breathed, as she grasped his shoulder tighter, "I'm frightened."  
  
"It's okay, littl' luv," he assured her, "I'm 'ere, remember, and I be 'nough to scare any ole troll to death!" he replied with that rotten tooth smile, "Just ye ask Uncle 'enry."  
  
She slowly cracked her eyes opened. The cellar was dark, except for the dim streams of golden sunlight coming through the dusty windows. There were many crates of supplies and the bags of sugar and flour. He took a firm hold of Estella and placed her on the floor. She took trembling steps back into him and stumbled. He took a firm hold of her soft little hand into his enormous rough hand.  
  
"Let's find those cards, eh, poppet," he told her, as he squeezed her hand reassuringly, "The sooner we find 'em, the sooner we go back upstairs." He smiled down at her and gave her a wink.  
  
She nodded and they wandered around the stores then. Finally, she nodded towards a couple of older crates in the corner. Ragetti led her to one of them and knelt down and knelt down behind her in front of it. They lifted the top of it off. An oversized spider scurried away out of the deep recesses, and Estella threw herself into the pirate's arms. He patted her back and turned her back around to show her that the spider was now gone. They dug around the many assorted items of Karl Schmidt until the girl came up with the cards. Ragetti hefted a well made pistol from the crate. Estella turned frightened eyes on him. He caught the stare and looked at the pistol. He sighed and chunked it back into the crate. Later, he thought. He hefted the little girl in his right arm and picked up the rum bottles in his left.  
  
"See, no trolls there, poppet," he told her as they entered the kitchen and he put the rum on the preparation table.  
  
Within a quarter of an hour, the three of them found themselves sprawled out on the kitchen floor. Lucy casually rested his head on Pintel's shoulder and drooled down his shirt. The older man glared at his partner. The dog sat up straight and wrinkled his brow.  
  
"I'll see you two marbles and raise ye three nuts," Ragetti said as he pushed his five walnuts to the pile.  
  
Pintel looked over his cards and so did Lucy. Then he looked at his decreasing pile of cuff links. Lucy imitated him. The older pirate pushed out five cuff links as if it really pained him to part with them.  
  
The clearing of the throat was heard. Pintel sat up straight and exclaimed a good hearty "Oh shit!"  
  
"Are you teaching my child your vile habits?" Marita asked flatly.  
  
"We're playing poker, mommy!" Estella exclaimed, "and I'm winning!" She stood up and showed her her cards.  
  
A/n: And yes, the pistol will show up again, trust me. This should kind of scare the doody out of you! Ragetti with a pistol, oh my! Well, at least he has a better chance of hitting his target than Pintel!  
  
Oh, don't make fun of Estella for thinking there is a troll in the cellar. I used to be scared of certain rooms on 10th street until I was 23! 


	14. Chapter 14: Wives, Pistols, and Money

A/N: I don't particularly like this chapter, and it is one that I had been planning for some time. The conversation between Pintel and Ragetti was one of the first ideas I had for this story. I started this chapter last week, and it was originally tacked on the end of Chapter 13. Oh well, I am glad to be done with this one. The title is inspired by Warren Zevon's song "Lawyers, Guns, and Money". Hey, I told you guys that I like some off the wall music! And Warren Zevon, the man, whose claim to fame was "Werewolves of London", is quite a bit on the normal side for me!  
  
Oh well, and my thanks go out to my enthusiastic readers and reviewers. Catgirlutah, thank you, thank you, thank you! I will return the favor soon. My computer has had a slight nervous breakdown of late, and it has taken it two days to get back into full working order . . . well, sort of. All my docuements aren't back in there yet, but it will survive for awhile.  
  
Thanks again to you, PeiPei. I am inspired by a comment that you made about marita getting into trouble over Pintel's interesting activities. I hope I can pull this one off. I look forward to reading more about Elizabeth.  
  
Arendi Star, your story is still very excellent story. Ah, poor Ragetti, he kind of got roped into this life, between being the 11th of 15 and Pintel's bright ideas. Besides, he looks the part! :)  
  
Anyway, enough said. On with the chapter. . .  
  
Chapter 14: Wives, Pistols, and Money  
  
Having been properly chewed out about certain poker games, being played with a certain little girl, that they were not suppose to be associating with, much less teaching her their bad habits (Of course, they were used to being yelled at and being threatened with asundrious forms of bodily harm for doing truly stupid things.), the two pirates were further punished by the confiscation of their evening rum. Oh well, Ragetti had managed to stow away a few bottles of cooking sherry in that disaster area that they called their sleeping quarters. It wasn't much on the taste buds, but it did get them there. Ragetti and Pintel laid back in their respective beds, and that simple action didn't sit well at all with the younger man. His rather over toasty back hit the collaboration of the mattress, the piles of dirty clothes, and many sundries, that didn't rightfully belonged in his bed, much less his possession, and he let out a distressed yelp of pain. It had been ten years since his body had truly acknowledged the pain of a new sunburn, and his back didn't take it in a sporting way. Ragetti arched his back away from the comfort of his bed, and he turned over and laid on his belly. He stared across the room in a quiet thoughtful way, as he swirled the vile liquid around in its bottle. Since his mind was on the reflections of memories and emotions and not exactly intellectual endeavors, his brain didn't feel the need to revolt the activity.  
  
Pintel laid sprawled out on his back in the bed. He was in an exceptionally grouchy mood. He wanted his regular good night drink, and all his daily takings, that Marita had confiscated. Empty pockets and the foul sherry really didn't do much for him. After a really bad day at work, all he wanted was to get some sleep and be done with the day. He was receiving some nasty growls from Lucy, who was laying across his legs. The dog didn't care too much for the cooking sherry either, and he knew whose fault it was that that was all they had.  
  
"Oh, shut up, ye mutt!" the older man growled, as he took a good swallow of the sherry. Wincing slightly, he allow the volatile drink slither done his throat. He pushed himself up and poured some of the contents of the bottle into the dog's lapping mouth, thus staining his sheets and already dirty clothes with the drink and dog slobber.  
  
Ragetti smiled at them. He took up his bottle of cooking sherry and swigged a good size mouthful. Screwing his eyes closed and wincing, he swallowed it down. He choked for a time, then he slouched back down to his bed and laid his head in the crook of his blistered arm. He swung the bottle over the side of the bed.  
  
"Pintel," he asked as he turned his head to look at his grumpy companion, "Do ye like it 'ere?"  
  
"What ye talkin' 'bout, boy!" he shot back, "It be like bein' in prison! I need to get back out to sea, get a proper drink, and fill me pockets!"  
  
"I like it 'ere. I ain't ne'er 'ad a real job 'fore," the younger man mused, "Me da, 'e tried to teach me 'bout the carpets and all, but it were all woodwork, and I got confused. When I lost me eye in the accident there, da gave up on me. Said I be nuttin' but a lousy littl' street rat. But, Mrs. Marita, she says I do a pretty good work. Maybe she thinks that I be worth something."  
  
The older pirate sat up suddenly, and Lucy growled about the movement. The pirate and the dog had a mild staring contest, where Lucy finally snuffled and laid his head back down to the bed. This was not because the dog felt intimidated. It was because he didn't feel the man was worth the effort of a chew toy right now. He just wanted to his partner to lay the hell back down and be still and let him get some well earned sleep. Nevermind the fact that he had slept or ate most of the day while on duty with Pintel.   
  
"Ragetti, my boy, she ain't foolhardy 'nough to think such a silly nonsensical of a thing!" Pintel pointed out. The older man drew in a deep breath and was ready to go into one of his long lectures from his vast stores of wisdom. No wonder they were always in trouble. "'Sides, we be full blooded pirates now. That means that we be black hearted lowlife no good fer nuttin' thieving bastards! We don't do 'onest jobs. It be 'gainst our very nature!"  
  
Ragetti sat up on his elbows with a mild cringe of pain from the crispy complaints of his arms. Confusion crossed his red burned face. "I ain't no bastard! Me mum and da were married when I were born!"  
  
"Ye missed the point, me boy. Don't ye miss the sea, the adventure, the treasure?" the elder asked.  
  
Ragetti crossed his arms and laid his chin on them as he laid down. He was still able to swish the bottle of sherry about in his hand by his ear. "Aye. I do miss bein' out to sea, and I miss the wind on me face as we sailed, but if I leave 'ere, I'd miss 'ere, too."  
  
"We've all got choices to make, boy. Me, I be glad to be 'way from the 'Ell bitch in the kitchen. If I wanted a bossy woman 'bouts, I'd 'ave stayed 'ome with Penny."  
  
Ragetti relaxed and blinked his eyes, as he stared at the headboard of the bed. "'Ow old am I?" he asked.  
  
"Boy, if ye don't know that one, I can't be 'elping ye!" the older man remarked in a condescending tone.  
  
"Well, I mean, am I 34 or 44? Does the ten years of bein' an undead cursed pirate count? Mrs. Marita says I look like be in me 30's."  
  
Pintel frowned, and having the luxury of having both eyes, he was able to cross them in concentration. "Well," he said after much consideration, "I guess ye be 34, since bein' dead, time kinda stopped fer us, ye know. Ain't ne'er 'eard of the dead growin' old 'n ' all. I says, then, I be 46. I certainly don't want to be 56 yet."  
  
'Then I guess it is alright to like Mrs. Marita this way," the younger man remarked with a distant smile.  
  
"Now, boy, don't ye be thinkin' of that woman that way! After all, she just offered to castrate ye this e'enin'! That ain't me idea of a romance made in 'Eaven, ye know."  
  
"She don't mean it. She was just mad 'cause we taught 'Stella to drink like a real pirate while she played poker. She were a bit less mad when she found out that it weren't rum in that bottle and it were reall' just milk," he remarked happily.  
  
"Och! And what would be wrong with that. I were drinking rum at 'er age!" Pintel snorted.  
  
"I would reall' like to be 'Stella's da. She's such a cute littl' bugger, and I think she likes me, too."  
  
"Now, boy, don't ye be thinkin' like that! Let me tell ye, married with children be a worse curse than what we 'ave just survived!" he pointed out like a man with experience.  
  
"Ya don't miss Mrs. Pintel and yer wee ones back 'ome?"  
  
"Like the gout, boy!" he growled, "Now, put those awful thoughts out of yer 'ead and get some sleep 'fore the task master cracks the whip 'gain."  
  
The younger pirate grimaced and downed the rest of his sherry in one gulp, that caused him to screw his face up further. He pounded his chest and coughed, Finally, he did an award winning belch, that would rival his partner's specialties. With a happy thought and smile, he popped his wooden eye out and placed it in its cup with the flower and the dirty sock. He finally laid his head down on his arms, embracing the pillow and clutching the goodies underneath. He fell into a peaceful joyful sleep with dreams that would earn him a good hearty smack.  
  
Pintel turned over on his side and stared out the window at the last quarter moon and the surrounding stars. He heaved a heavy sigh and gave a distant smile. "Well, watcha know," he whispered, " I be 10 years younger, Penny. If only I can find me way back to ye, I wonder 'ow ye feel 'bouts me now?"  
  
Thursday morning and day went on in its usual manner. Marita got up early to make the bread and the pastries. Late morning, she tackled the jungle of dirty clothes and woke up her lazy employees with little to no trouble. Lucy did the fang work on Pintel, and she needed only poke Ragetti in the back to get him up howling.  
  
"What have you done to yourself now?" she asked exasperated.  
  
"Uh . . . well . . . I . . . . uh . . . kind of got sunburned yesterday. I ain't used to doin' the laundry and the wood in the afternoon," he explained.  
  
She frowned and pushed some of the peeling skin from his face. "I have some salve for that, too. You'd think as long as you have been a pirate, that sunburn wouldn't even be noticeable to you."  
  
Pintel ran through the room with Lucy hot on his track. The dog was having the time of his life, and this was the most exercise he got out of the day. No one paid them any mind. This was a normal everyday occurrence. The taller pirate did an unnoticeable blush. "I'm a bit of a wuss when it comes to pain," he confessed.  
  
"Take off your gown, and I'll get the salve," she told him.  
  
Pintel rushed across the room again followed by the rather sizeable dog. Marita left, and Ragetti got up to dress himself, as his companion ran passed him and tumbled out of the window with an ungracious growl and an obscenely cursed thud, then followed by the pursuing dog, another thud, and a gasp of the wind being knocked out of him.  
  
Marita returned to the room with the salve. The remaining pirate smiled up at her from his position on the bed. She cleared off a space on the table and placed the jar on it. She stood up straight, crossed her arms and glared daggers at him.  
  
"Off with the shirt," she ordered.  
  
His smile brightened in a frightening way. "Mrs. Marita! I di'n't know ye be that type of woman!"  
  
He dodged her swing and bashed himself on the head board of the bed. Oh well, it achieved the same results. She rolled him over and stripped down his shirt and applied the ointment. She snorted at the scars. She bet he passed out when he received those marks. What a wuss, indeed, she thought. When her task was done, she poured a pitcher of cold water on his head, and he sat up suddenly.  
  
Marita shoved the jar of salve into his hands. "Wash off your hands, arms and face, then put the ointment there, too."  
  
"You're not gonna do it fer me?" he complained hopefully.  
  
The look she shot back at him made him cringe appropriately back on his bed.  
  
"Yes, Mrs. Marita," he surrendered.  
  
"When you are done, I want to show you how to make the bread better, . . . yet again. No red peppers, bell pepper, cayenne pepper, or anything else that is hot and spicy this time.  
  
She turned and left the room. Within a very few minutes, the taller of the two men was ready for his job of the day. The mistress of the bakery eyed him over. The white pasty ointment was gathered in clumps on his face, making him look like his nose was a bit longer and crooked like a decrepit hag with white eyebrows and a white mustache to boot. She placed her hand over her mouth to laugh at him, as she rubbed the stuff into the pores of his face. He twisted a smile and moved in nearer to her. Unnoticed, he moved his hands closer to her face, but fortunately, he was interrupted. Pintel burst into the room followed by his panting canine companion. He grumbled some not so nice obscenities as he slouched his way to the front of the store.  
  
Ragetti was still in a daze as she began her instructions. She finally noticed her attentive audience and kicked him in the knee caps to regain his true attention. He gave her a clueless smile and listened up to her instructions. Although eager to learn and please her, he had serious trouble keeping his mind on his work, and it was a wonder that he got anything done at all and all his limbs were kept in tact and whole, since they had the tendency to roam to places where they did not belong. After a couple of hours work and reprimands about the misuse of some rather nasty and hot spices, Marita went to the front of the store to deal with her other obnoxious problem.  
  
Pintel was less grateful for her help. She had well aimed kicks for whenever he tried to do some pocketing of profits. He couldn't turn a good shilling or a gold cuff link with her around, because she was just as skillful at returning the stolen item back to its proper owner. She showed the disgruntled pirate how to close up for the night. Some of the suggestions the older man had for the procedure were quite amusing even for Marita, and he was lucky to keep everything in tact also.  
  
Since the men were not left to their own devices that day, they did not get into too much trouble, and they were entitled to their dinners and bottle of rum. Marita took her and Estella's meal upstairs and left the two to their meal. Ragetti fetched the rum and picked up that pistol from the previous night. Pintel made a comment about the load in his pants, but didn't venture further into investigation. There was some places that other men did not go! Anyway, the younger would have to stash his find somewhere in the room, and he'd find it sooner or later. Anyway, the two of them got to got to bed happy that night. 


	15. Chapter 15: Reading, Writing, and Dirty ...

A/N: Here it is Chapter 15. This chapter is full of some mush, so please include a brown bag. Oh well, that's what the five year old is for!  
  
Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers! Your responses are greatly appreciated. Pei Pei, I hope you are alright. You haven't written anything this week. I just hope you're on vacation. I need one!  
  
Thank you, Catgiraluh, I am better than half way through your story, and still going.  
  
Oh, and one more comment, in the previous chapter, I said that they were last quarter moon. The moon is waxing, and for some reason, my brain had a fizzle and I thought last quarter menat on towards full. Duh! So, they are in first quarter.   
  
On with the show . . .  
  
Chapter 15: Reading, Writing, and Dirty Laundry  
  
Marita felt a tad bit guilty about the severe sunburn the man had received from doing the outside chores during the hot after noon hours. So, Ragetti's special Friday task was to clean that incredible jungle, that they fondly called their room. Needless to say, the enormity of this job left the tall man rather speechless. She prepared to leave at noon as usual. She gave Pintel his usual long series of new and unique threats against him and his manhood for doing those very special and talented activities of his. She expected, in all honesty, to return by 3 in the afternoon and spend the rest of the daylight hours returning the older man's stash of items. She had basically gave up hope of her daughter staying away from the two criminals. That was not to say that the bakery mistress approved of her association with them, but she fully expected to find Estella lost somewhere in the jumble of what was the pirates' room when she returned.  
  
She was not wrong on her expectations. Pintel had stolen enough goodies that would happily cover his weeks wages and several subsequent weeks within his half an hour. The little girl crept down to the kitchen within the first hour after her mother had left. It didn't take her long to surmise that Ragetti was in the disastrous servants' quarters. Although he was not visible, the self same boot, that propped open the outside door from the other day, now propped open the overflowing bedroom door. Estella poked her head into the room. There was a moving pile of laundry in the sea of rubbish. The lump suddenly hit the dresser, and Ragetti promptly popped up with a hearty yelp and a pair of Marita's bloomers on his head. He rubbed his assaulted brow and looked towards the laughing little girl.  
  
"'Ello, poppet!" he greeted her, then he became self conscious of his newest head decoration. He yanked the bloomers off his head and hid them behind his back with a deep fluent and quite visible blush on his face.   
  
"Can I help, Uncle Tony?" she asked.  
  
Trying to think was not one of his strong points, and his wooden eye didn't approve of the smoldering action. So, the pirate just shrugged. He'd already been in trouble for numerous stupid things, so what was one more. "Sure, poppet," he replied cheerfully.  
  
The two of them had an entertaining time of hide and seek. The battle of the dirty laundry was quite fun, too. Estella had the distinct tendency of asking those awkward and embarrassing questions about those rather questionable pieces of clothing that really belonged in Marita's room and not the men's room. After hitting each other over the head with the woman's undergarments, the man got over the discomfort of presence of such clothing, and the child ceased asking questions about them. As they sorted through the vast assortment of clothes, Ragetti was a bit puzzled how various pieces of Estella's clothing showed up in the pile, and the girl found some of her missing ribbons and five mismatched stockings. The one eyed man found it very odd how such mistakes could be made, since he was only able to fit one of the girl's stockings over his big toe and the next two toes, they were obviously too small to mistake as their own, but Estella got a big giggle out of his attempts to wear them.  
  
The two humans unceremoniously evicted the cuddling rather happy fat rats by way of the window. After all, they hadn't paid their rent since they had arrived, and it had been near a month since they came here. The little girl changed out the cup of dirty water, dead wilted flower, and the moldy sock. She fetched fresh water and a fresh flower, and Ragetti placed a fresh dirty sock in the water. After all the gathering and sorting, the two did the laundry. Come late afternoon, no one noticed the tardiness of the lady of the household. After a couple of quick tea biscuits, Estella went back upstairs for her afternoon nap. Ragetti went about making the evening meal for himself and Pintel, and he finished cleaning up the kitchen.  
  
Evening drew on, and Marita still had not returned. Pintel and Ragetti just shrugged it off. Ragetti went about chopping the firewood at dusk, and Pintel locked up for the night and cleaned out the leftovers. The two pirates didn't really think any thing about her absence. They figured that she would be doing what they would be doing with a night on the town. Of course, if that was completely true, the younger man would be completely crushed by the thought of Marita spending her time in the same kind of company that he would, thus saying that he was most certainly not Marita's type. Fortunately for Ragetti, Marita had not interest in that kind of female company.  
  
Estella joined them for dinner, that Ragetti had made all on his own, and it was actually edible and digestible. Pintel gave several approving belches after three bowlfuls instead of starting a food fight with it. Estella didn't wretch and hurl after cleaning her bowl. So, Ragetti was quite full of himself afterwards, although the meal had not turned out the way he had wanted it to. Search as he might, he was unable to find Marita's stash of peppers.  
  
Afterwards, the two pirates took the child upstairs and put her to bed. She suckered Ragetti into singing her a lullaby, since her mommy wasn't there to do it. The younger man sat up straight and scratched his head as he racked his brain for a song that would be suitable for all audiences. Pintel, having never been to Marita's private quarters, soon found his pants getting quite heavy with the new store of treasure. The younger pirate looked to him for advice in this situation. (He sure was asking the wrong person!) The older pirate just shrugged and held up his hands in helplessness, then he had to hurriedly grab his pants before the laws of gravity yanked them down to his ankles. Pintel knew less clean songs than Ragetti did. So, the one eyed pirate slumped his jaw onto his fist in thought and causing himself a major headache in the process. Finally, he came upon a song, and he sang her a pirate working song with her help and Pintel's help. It wasn't exactly a lullaby, and it was rather a lively tune, but it did qualify under the PG rating and it had very little womanizing in it.  
  
Wide and bright eyed, Estella chirped in, "Mommy sings better than you, Uncle Tony."  
  
The tall man paused in tucking her in and stood up straight with a frown. "Hush," he told her, as he tapped her on the nose, "And go to sleep now, poppet." He turned to follow Pintel from the room. As his companion disappeared from the room, Ragetti hurried back to her and placed a kiss on he forehead. "Go to sleep now," he whispered to her, "Yer mommy will be 'ome soon."  
  
The two miscreants dragged themselves to their respective beds. They were still cut off from their rum supply, because Marita had locked away the fine beverage in a giant chest in the cellar, and she carried the keys with her. Although they had drank the last of the cooking sherry the previous night, neither of them felt inclined to go and tackle picking the lock. So, they were going to bed sober for a change. The light of the waxing moon caught Pintel's eye as he collapsed in his bed. He jumped up and slammed the window shut and drew the curtains. Ragetti, who had just pulled his eye out with a sickening popped, looked over at him with curiosity.  
  
"What's that all 'bouts, mate?" he asked.  
  
"The moon," he answered quietly, as he headed into the bed, and Lucy jumped up to join him.  
  
Ragetti frowned and looked down. "Yes," he answered, and he dropped his eye off in its cup. He curled into his bed and went to sleep.  
  
They were not asleep for more than two hours when a knock came to the door. Pintel grumbled some obscenities that basically translated that he wasn't getting up anytime soon. Lucy sat up and whimpered, but Ragetti remained sprawled out and spread eagle on the bed. The knock came again, and then the door creaked open onto the stuffy room. Estella, clutching her doll close to herself in one arm and carrying a lantern in the other hand, she crept across the threshold in bare feet. Placing the lantern on the nightstand, she tugged at Ragetti's sleeve.  
  
"Uncle Tony?" she implored softly.  
  
The one eyed pirate mumbled some discouraging things, that were not exactly proper for such tender ears. He turned his body over and away from her.  
  
Estella bit her lower lip, and the tears started to leak down her cheeks. "Uncle Tony!" she cried out in a more insistent voice.  
  
He groaned and blindly felt around for the incentive for his waking. Touching Estella's shoulder, he patted his way up to her face. Something in his semi conscious mind registered her presence and who she was. He pushed himself up and looked at her. He moved his hand to her cheek and brushed away the tears.  
  
"What's wrong, poppet?" he asked concerned.  
  
"Mommy's not home yet," she complained.  
  
"She's not?" he exclaimed, as he sat up fully. His brow furrowed and he looked over at his sleeping companion. "'Enry!" he called out in a loud voice.  
  
The older pirate grumbled something unpleasant. The dog stood up and poked his nose at his bed fellow. Pintel made some more interesting mumbles, then suddenly, he grabbed the dog's flopped over ears and pulled him in for a big sloppy kiss. Lucy pulled away with an incredibly disgusted look on his face and with his brow wrinkled. Realization dawning on the man, he sat up and sputtered and spewed in a revolted way. He coughed and carried on beyond all reason.  
  
"'Enry, Mrs. Marita ain't 'ome yet," Ragetti complained.  
  
"So, what's that to me?" he growled as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve.  
  
"Mommy's not been gone this long before," the child replied with those big sorrowful eyes.  
  
"Och, she's probably 'avin' a party. I ain't 'nough of a man to take 'er from 'er fun!" the older man complained.  
  
"'Enry!" Ragetti reprimanded.  
  
"Whatcha want me to do 'bouts it?" he argued.  
  
"Go out and find 'er," he answered, "We can't be lettin' the littl' lady down, ya know!"  
  
"It be gettin' t'wards full moon! I ain't goin' out!" the other insisted, "Ye do it!"  
  
"I'm too suspicious lookin', and I be marked and all. It ain't like yer gonna get furry or an'thing," the younger pointed out.  
  
"It ain't gettin' furry I be worried 'bouts. It be quite the opposite! Ye know well the curse of the full moon! It ain't no pleasant thing!" Pintel argued.  
  
"It ain't officially a full moon yet. That will not be till Sunday."  
  
"I don't care. It's close 'nough!" Pintel pointed out, "It's full 'nough to cast a shadow."  
  
"Lucy needs a walk, and 'e likes ye better. 'Stella like me better, so I get to stay 'ere with 'er," Ragetti stated logically, "'Sides, the curse is broken. We be normal 'gain." ( That was a truely frightening thought!)  
  
The older man squinted his eyes at him. The younger man widened his grin and looked at him with the one pleading eye. Estella wrapped her arms around the tall man's arm and gave him a much more convincing pathetic pleading look. The older man spat off the opposite of the bed. He got up and got dressed. He grumbled some not very nice things, and the dog growled at him. He called the dog something that should not have been said in front of a five year old. Turning on his partner in many and various crimes, he pointed his finger at him.  
  
"If this mutt gnaws on one of me bones in the moonlight, I will usin' that wooden of yers as a ping pong ball!" With that said, he stomped off with the happily following dog.  
  
Ragetti sighed with relief and took up the lantern and lead Estella from the room and to the stairs of Marita's rooms. She shook her head and looked sorrowfully up at him. She clutched her doll closer to herself.   
  
"I'm frightened, Uncle Tony. Can't I stay with you?"  
  
"Oh," he answered, as he scratched his head, "I guess."  
  
"What if mommy don't come back like daddy did?" she asked.  
  
"Now, dotcha be talkin' like that," he replied as he knelt down to her, "'Course yer mommy's comin' back. She be a strong lady, ya know, and Uncle 'Enry says that she be too mean to die."  
  
"Daddy was real mean, and he didn't come back."  
  
"Well, I know yer mum'll be back and she be fine. Me gut feelin', ye see," he replied with a wink of his empty eye socket, "or else, I be 'ungry 'gain." She smiled up at him. He forced himself to smile back at her. Those irritating butterflies were doing their dance again, and he feared for Marita's safety. He knew he had to be strong and not let the child down or let her see his true anxiety. If the worse had happened, he and Pintel would just have to take her with them as they fled Port Royal. He was not ready to give up on Marita yet. She just couldn't be dead. Hadn't fate taken away enough people that he loved?  
  
"Uncle Tony, will you read me a story?" she asked sweetly.  
  
"Uh . . ." he answered, "I can't read, poppet."  
  
"That's alright," she chirped, as she took the lantern and handed him her doll. She started up the steps, then turned to him and smiled. "I can read. I'll show you how."  
  
"I'd like that very much, poppet," he replied. Not only would this distract both their minds from worries, but he always did want to learn how to read. His father always told him that it was above his station in life to learn and he was too daft to get it anyway.  
  
Estella returned with a big book, that was almost as big as herself. Ragetti moved up the steps and exchanged the doll for the book, then he borrowed the lantern to fetch his wooden eye for the occasion. Estella looked up at him puzzled.  
  
"Can you see with that eye?" she asked curiously.  
  
He shook his head no. She looked more confused, as he sat himself on the kitchen floor with his back against the wall. She shrugged and crawled into his lap. Placing her doll on her lap, she opened the book, as the man encircled his arms around her waist. She proceeded to read the words on the page and pointed them out for her much bigger companion, so he could see them. She helped him to make out the words and the letters like her mother had taught her. Although the progress was slow and neither of them got the gist of the story they were reading, the pirate was as delighted as the child was.  
  
A couple hours later, Marita entered the room to find the two of them sound asleep. Estella was still cuddled in Ragetti's arms. The man had the right side of his head laying on her head. The book remained opened on the floor. The woman sighed. She placed her bag on the table. She walked over to them and gently tried to lift her daughter from the man's grasp.  
  
Ragetti tightened his hold on her and mumbled, "Don't take Emily 'way. I won't let ye 'ave 'er this time."  
  
Marita paused and frowned. She gently shook his shoulder, and the man woke with a start. He stared at her without recognition for several seconds. He blinked his eyes and wiped the sleep from the left one, then his right one itched with the sleep as well. Familiarity dawned on him.  
  
"Can I have my daughter now?" she asked gently.  
  
"Uh," he answered and loosened his grip from around the girl. She hefted the sleeping child up in her arms and took her upstairs. Ragetti sighed and folded the book together. He got to his feet and placed the book on the table. He began to rub his right eye socket with more fervor.  
  
He felt Marita's hand softly touch his back. He started and looked at her. "You shouldn't rub it, you know. It will irritate it worse," she told him.  
  
"I know," he replied quietly.  
  
"So, take it out and go to bed," she ordered him kindly.  
  
He pushed the book towards her. "'Stella was teachin' me to read," he explained with a smile.  
  
"Thank you," she said, as she touched his cheek and gave him an approving look.  
  
"Uh?" he answered with that incredible puzzled look, "Ye ain't gonna to yell at me?"  
  
She shook her head no. "Not this time," she answered. She touched his hand and offered, "Maybe I can continue your reading lessons, but you need your sleep now."  
  
Tired and half awake he may have been, but he was aware enough to feel all the blood rush to his face. Just in time to save him from further embarrassment, Pintel walked into the room with Lucy following him. He had a package of his own, that appeared to contain a couple of bottles.  
  
"Marita!" he exclaimed.  
  
"Woof!" added Lucy."Good to see ya back. Been out lookin' fer ye, woman!"  
  
"At the liquor store?" she asked shrewdly.  
  
"Well," the older man replied, "It be where I'd go. Since I were there and all, I figured I might as well be gettin' some rum fer me and me buddy there. 'Ate to waste the trip and all, ya know."  
  
"Uh-hun," she answered.  
  
"Where've ye been, ma'am," Ragetti asked, as he pulled his eye out and held it firmly in his hand.  
  
"I got waylaid by the law over some special endeavors of a certain employee of mine," she remarked pointedly, as she glared at the stout bow legged man, swigging from his bottle of rum.  
  
Swallowing down the swill, he wiped his mouth and looked at her and growled, "Speak English, woman."  
  
"Go to bed, the both of you," she demanded. She gathered Pintel's collar into her hand and yanked him bodily towards her. "and I'll straighten you out tomorrow. I am not about to lose my bakery because of scum like you!"  
  
Pintel belched as a response. 


	16. Chapter 16: Reprimands and Rewards

A/N: Thank you to all my wonderful readers out there. It is greatly appreciated. Sorry this chapter is so late. My days off were changed due to the holiday, adn my boss wanted Friday off. Anyway, this chapter was once upon a time longer, and it didn't exactly do what it was suppose to. I may be late again next week, because Chapter 17 is a delicate chapter, adn I really want to do it right. Chapter 17 is more of an action chapter than a humorous chapter, so be forewarned. Just a bit of suspense there for you! So, this chapter is again another transitional chapter.

PeiPei, a lot of this chapter is because of that last review you left. I hope most of your questions are answered. :)

Chapter 16: Reprimands and Rewards  
  
Marita, being used to rising at the ungodly pre-dawn hour of the morning was still up and about at still an unreasonably early hour of the morning, although she considered herself to be quite late for her normal routine. Nothing was lost, though. The bakery was not opened on Saturdays. She did not find opening on this particular day profitable, so she usually didn't do it. She usually spent this day of the week with her daughter in entertainment and teaching her her lessons. Of course, this particular Saturday, she had pressing business with that 5'8" (if he stood up to his full true height) rowdy ornery cretinous pile of slag. So, she went to the men's room. When she opened the door, she found the room incredibly stuffy. This condition obviously did not bother the snoring tenants. Lucy sat up alert on Pintel's bed as the mistress of the household crossed the room to the window, in which she threw back the curtains and opened the window wide. The older man groaned and turned over away from the streaming bright light. Ragetti was unaffected. She puzzled over why they would keep the window closed all of a sudden, but she did not dwell on this long. She had more important things to occupy her time, and trying to figure these two men out was a waste of her precious time.   
  
She bodily yanked the obnoxious pirate out of his bed and dropped him unceremoniously on the floor. She was unsure of what she could say or do to impress upon him the severity of his position. She really did not want to dismiss him. It was quite nice to have someone take care of the bakery while she attended to other matters, like the purchasing and delivery of the bakery goods. The thought of turning the criminal over to the commodore and his men crossed her mind, but she quickly chased the thought away. She more often than not threatened the older man with just that. The animosity that she felt towards him, though, was not enough for her to truly wish to see him on the end of a rope. Regardless of his flippant behavior and ornery bawdiness, she would hate to admit that she actually liked the dirty stubborn old man. He was, after all, an outlet for her anger.  
  
She looked over at Ragetti, who was sleeping soundly and snoring uproariously on his stomach with his right hand thrown off of the bed and touching the floor. His left leg was hanging off the opposite side of the bed. His sighted left side of his face was buried deep into the pillow, so that when the sudden flood of light came into the room, it did not bother his repose at all. His splayed curling hair, covering the pillow, that he clutched so lovingly in his arms, had turned from a light golden brown, that it was when he first arrived and bathed, to a golden blonde with the regular cleaning and the sun exposure with his outside chores. She smiled at him. His ears were kind of big and obtrusive, and his somewhat large nose and overbite kind of gave him a goofy look, but she still was pleased with him. (She would have been a little less happy, if she examined him closer and found out what he was clutching under that pillow.) He did no wrong last night, although she was not sure she approved of the song that he taught her daughter, but it was not all that offensive. She frowned. She could not be rid of Pintel for his sake. The goofy taller pirate looked up at him kind of like a father figure, and he would have been lost without him. She sighed. She had never truly knew that feeling, but she had seen oit on many others. Shaking her head, she decided to let him continue to sleep out the morning.  
  
Slapping Lucy on the rear, she got the lazy dog up, and he, in turn, got Pintel awake. After the morning run about and bath, Pintel was dragged into the kitchen, where he was forced to listen to her lecture. None of this noise or activity woke Ragetti, as he continued to sleep and dream in a not so PG-13 manner.  
  
About an hour later found Pintel sitting at the table in the kitchen. He was leaning back in the chair with his feet propped on the table, and he was picking something disgusting out of his teeth. She sighed exasperated and crossed her arms, as she shook her head in disgust, as she glared holes into him. She paced the floor. The man was a vile lowlife good for nothing pig. Where to begin? What to say? He never took any of her other reprimands seriously, and she feared that this time would be no different, but she had to try.  
  
"Henry Pintel, do you know where I spent a good portion of last night?" she asked severely.  
  
The older pirate cringed from within and fell back in the chair from her tone. Marita rolled her eyes. The thief's wife, mother, father, and other asundrious persons of superiority used only his first and last name together when he was really in trouble. He frowned and swallowed down his misgivings to give into his defiant self, as he glared up at her. He got up and grabbed his chair. He sat back down with a fierce gaze at her.  
  
"I be no woman, so I don't be knowin' where a woman be partyin'. Ye weren't at the liquor store, so beats me," he replied, "Is there one those male cat houses 'bouts town."  
  
She fumed. With an effort, she kept her voice level. "Stealing the commodore's sword and pistol both on the same day was not the brightest of moves. You will be getting us all hanged with your antics," she told him in a forced calm voice, "It is a crime in this city to harbor a known pirate, you know that?"  
  
"It ain't been proved that I be a pirate, now 'as it," he replied with a rotten tooth grin, "and 'sides ye be likin' the one of us that be bearin' that mark a bit too much."  
  
"He knows how to keep his head low for a bit, unlike others. You would prefer that your friend take all the blame for your actions?" she asked blatantly, "You would want Tony to hang for your crimes?"  
"'E ain't all that innocent of me crimes, ya know. 'Sides, I be gettin' him out of it. I be good fer that."  
  
"And what about Estella and me? I am the one who got you out of the irons. It would have been just as easy for me to turn you over to the law then."  
  
"But ye di'n't. now did ye," he answered cannily, "And why might that be, I be wonderin'?"  
  
"That is my own business," she snapped, "If it endangers my daughter and me, I can just as easily get you jailed now."  
The man squinted his eyes up at her. "But ye can't, now can ye?" he stated, "It be gettin' ye in 'eaps of trouble, now wouldn't it."  
  
"Norrington has been most sympathetic to me, even before Karl's untimely end," she told him flatly, "I could always claim that you lied to me about who you were, and I discovered Tony's brand by accident one day. He would give me the benefit of a doubt just to hang a couple of miscreants such as yourselves."  
  
Pintel's devious smile did not fade. "Oh, but ye be missin' the both of us, wouldn't ye? 'O would ye yellin' at all the time without me 'round?"  
  
She bit her lip and turned from him. "You can just leave. Maybe I don't need either of your services. After all, I did fine before you bumbled into my yard."  
  
"Bah!" he spat, "Ye like us. Be done with it and admit it!"  
She turned on him so suddenly with such venom in her eyes, that he thought he would fall from the chair again. He jumped back in the defensive. He held up his hands to shield himself from her attack.  
  
"All right!" he confessed, " I will see if I can control meself as long as I get to keep Gillette's pistol."  
  
She frowned. Couldn't that man keep a hold of his blasted pistol. That was the third time this week the pirate had acquired it, and the man had not entered the bakery once this week. "Alright," she agreed, "I don't know anything about the lieutenant's pistol. Happy?"  
  
"How 'bouts a pay raise?" he suggested with a bright grin.  
  
"How about a foot in an uncomfortable place?"  
  
He grinned wider. She blew out an exasperated breath and threw up her hands. She turned her back on him, and he made a rude gesture, that should not be made to a lady. She paused and turned back to look at him. Puzzled a moment, she shook her head and returned to her progression to their room to finally wake up Ragetti. It was well past noon, and she felt that not only would the man like to make arrangements for his reading lesson, but he would like to get a meal or two in there. After all, between the two men, he was the one, who was most fond of food.  
  
The tall lanky pirate was not that hard to wake up, given the fact that he was already awake, had shaven and was dressed. He sat on the edge of his bed and was combing out his hair. She went over to him and sat down next to him. He jumped startled and stopped what he was doing. He turned to face her and gave a nervous smile, like he had been caught doing something that he shouldn't have been doing. She smiled at him and tousled his hair. His face burned brightly, but he didn't pull away from her.  
  
"You have the fastest growing hair I have ever seen," she complained.  
  
"Uh, sorry 'bout that. I think it be all this cleanin' bit, ya know. It be bad fer the 'ealth, and makes the 'air grow like weeds," he answered. He bent over to the nightstand and groveled around for his eye.  
  
Marita frowned at him. "Why do you keep a dirty sock and a flower in the same cup as your eye?" she asked.  
  
"I wants it to feel at 'ome," he replied happily, "I mean, I like flowers and dirty socks in me room."  
  
She got up and pulled the two pieces out of the cup. "That is probably why the thing itches you so much. Ever consider that?"  
  
"Uh," he answered as he scratched his head, "I ne'er thought of that."  
  
She took the wooden eye from his hand and fetched some water from the kitchen. She rinsed the item and returned it to him. He smiled up at her. "Most women I know be rather squeamish 'bout me eye. They think it gross."  
  
"It is," she answered bluntly, "But I have dealt with worse things."  
  
"Oh," he acknowledged.  
  
"Henry is going to be nice to you today and do your chores," she told him, "And I want to start teaching you to read."  
  
A light showed in his real eye, and he chimed, "Ya really are goin' to go through with it, ma'am!"  
  
"Of course," she replied reassuringly, as she took his hands and knelt before him, "There is no sin in wanting to better yourself."  
  
He felt his insides twist in an unseemly way, and he had to swallow that growing lump in his throat. "And ya gonna teach me . . .yerself?" he inquired wide eyed.  
  
"Yes," she answered, as she squeezed his hands. Before the butterflies could manifest themselves fully in his stomach and other places best unmentioned, a glint of gold caught the bakery mistress' eye. Her brow furrowed as she asked, "Is that one of my earrings you are wearing?"  
  
"Uh . . ." he replied.


	17. Chapter 17: Shots in the Dark

A/N: Here it is! This is the longest chapter so far, but at leas the two nits did something! There are funny lines in this chapter, but they just kind of happened. Again, this chapter is for you, PeiPei, because you kept saying that Pintel was . . . uhm . . . such a useless pile of something best not mentioned. I thought I ought to let him do something worth while for a change.

The title of the chapter is coutesy of the illustrious boyfriend, who wanted the end of this chapter to be messier than it is. The funny thing is "Shot in the Dark" has many media significances. Of course, we two looked at each other and said, "What? Ozzy?", because the old boy had a song out by that name. There is the Peter Seller's movie by that name. And I have a record by The Shot in the Dark. They are a band that Al Stewart ("Year of the Cat" dude) formed. All this has no significance upon this story.

Thank you to PeiPei and Catgirluh for reading this story faithfully. It gives me a real boost (And I ain't talking about all that caffeine in the system either!).

Chapter 17: Shots in the Night  
  
The rest of the afternoon and the early evening Marita spent with Estella and Ragetti. She and her daughter worked on showing the man about letters and their proper use. If there was a way, the pair of miscreants could find the most unique way of misusing such letters. This aspect of the lady's day turned out well. Although the pirate was not the brightest light in the lantern, he did have a little left between his ears other than liquor soaked lint. It didn't hurt matters that he had always wanted to learn to read. So, he actually managed to retain some of the lesson and understand what was going on, although he was often confused with both Estella and Marita trying to tell him something at the same time. The child was quicker on the uptake of the lesson. Of course to be fair, one must remember that Ragetti had to forty years on the child, and the older the person, the harder it was to learn new things, because the mind was already cluttered with other things, and the pirate's mind was a virtual junk yard of unconstructive and useless things. Not to mention, Estella had had a few more lessons in the field than he did. If the course was on pick pocketing or womanizing, Ragetti would be the master here.  
  
Pintel, on the other hand, was a completely different story for the woman. He made a few unnecessary and rather crude comments to his companion, who sat at the kitchen table with quill and paper. After a few nasty slaps of a rather dirty mop to the face, the older man decided that the trips through the kitchen were not necessary and the outside was a much safer place. This wasn't to say that he didn't get his revenge upon Marita for assigning him some of his companion's chores. While the younger man got to sit inside in the shelter from the blazing sun, the older man made a complete shambles of the work assigned him. For an intelligent woman, Marita had not figured out that no one put an ax in the older pirate's hand and hope to keep everything in tact.  
  
Although doing the cooking had become one of his favorite chores, Ragetti was encouraged to continue his studies since he was on a roll. Marita made the meals for the day. After their evening meal and as night drew on, Marita and her daughter retired to their rooms. Saturday night usually found the two delinquent pirates in places, where no civilized man dared to go and hope to keep a hold of all of his goodies, and Marita would not see them again until Monday morning in no state to perform their duties. They would have happily kept up this routine, but the glare of the full moon kept them at bay. Having reverted back to living human beings now, they feared that the moonlight would bring the curse back upon them, and neither of them wanted to go back to those days. It did not matter to them that the activation of the curse was tied to the Aztec gold, and all the moon did was reveal the curse to other eyes. The memories were still fresh in their minds, and they shook to the roots of their human souls. It would never due for them to return to the rotted state of undead cursed pirates. Marita had a distinct dislike for smelly things. Other than the complete control over themselves . . . well, as much control that was available to them . . . was so much harder to keep, the desire to wantonly kill anyone and anything under the curse was overpowering. Anyway, to become a pair of walking rotting cursed undead pirates alone was different than being with thirty some odd (and some odder than others) walking rotting cursed undead pirates. Both felt quite sickened by the thought of being caught in the full moon, and it was a good brave thing indeed for Pintel to go out in the waxing moonlight to search for Marita. He had been most careful about staying in the shadows, as he searched for her, and he did try to find her at first. Every little growl or snuffle from Lucy set his nerves on edge. He forced Ragetti to agree that the next time such occurrence happened it was the tall lanky one eyed pirate's turn to prowl the moonlight.  
  
This Saturday night, Pintel promptly closed the window and shrouded it with the curtains. Afterwards, he and Ragetti cleared off the table to play cards with two lamps glittering over their game. Although having their weekly wages at hand, they chose to not play poker, and they proceeded to play gin-rummy with the corresponding drinks at hand. Lucy laid at Pintel's feet and looked up at them with dejection written on his face. Because the bakery had been closed that day, there were no leftover donuts to be had. Therefore the dog had no extra treats all day, and the gin was a bitter drink. Not to mention, because Pintel was not out womanizing, neither was the dog.  
  
The bakery was relatively quiet for a long time, if one didn't count Pintel's most colorful pirate curses at losing games and accusing his companion of cheating. Although he bakery was not opened on Sunday, Marita and Estella were usually up early for Sunday mass. The men, who had no intentions whatsoever of setting foot in a church, had planned to stay at home and sleep off the results of their game. They had various reasons for not wanting to attend any service involving God, including the fact that they felt it uncouth to steal at church, and there was the very real possibility that God may still be a bit peeved about their recent curse and the activities performed under the curse. They felt they may well get struck down by lightening or even worse if they dared to cross such a threshold.  
  
Marita had given then a list of chores to be done without any hope of anyone being home or the chores being accomplished by them, although Ragetti assured her that they had intended to stay home that night. The younger man had a couple of minor cleaning chores and another reading lesson scheduled. Pintel got that special task of cleaning out the outhouse. When he griped about the injustice of the assignments, he was told in a none too gentle manner that it was poetic justice for his sticky fingered hobby. He didn't get where poetry had anything to do with it. He thought that maybe after awhile, he would get his companion, who was learning to write, to add some colorful poetic decor to the shack.  
  
Pintel sat back in his chair that Saturday night. He had a decent hand going for himself this time around. The shattering of glass, that they weren't responsible for, broke up the game. The two pirates dropped their cards on the table. Blood drained from their faces, as they stood up. Lucy gave his deep bark and growl, as he stood up and ran to the door of the room.  
  
"We're bein' robbed!" Ragetti exclaimed with wide eyes.  
  
"Good at the obvious, ain't ye!" snarled Pintel, as he dove across his bed. He soon returned with Lieutenant Gillette's pistol. Making sure that it was loaded, he grabbed one of the lamps and headed for the door. He turned and looked to his spellbound partner, whose mouth was agape. "Comin'?" he inquired.   
  
Ragetti nodded a silent agreement. He went for his pistol under the mattress. He had collected the pistol of Karl Schmidt the night after the illustrious card game with Estella. Marita's late husband no longer needed it, and she had St. Peter for her protection. Taking up his lamp, he gave Pintel another nod. The two men left their room with the big black dog in the lead.  
  
The two men entered the kitchen and paused at the door to the store front. The older man held the growling dog back with his lamp wielding arm. The dog snarled and showed that vast array of sharp teeth, and the hair on the back of his neck bristled. Ragetti swallowed down the pounding lump in his throat. Pintel did not notice his sweating palms nor his pounding heart. Harsh whispers were heard through the door. Scuffling and crashes, as if things were being overturned, sounded.   
  
"Bloody 'ell! There ain't nuttin' 'ere worth me effort!" one of them hissed rather loudly.  
  
"Bah! Burn the place, I say!" came a second deeper voice tainted with a Spanish accent.  
  
Pintel took a deep breath. He burst through the door first. The dog, no longer having any restraint, burst through the door and ahead of the man. Lucy leapt to the smaller of the two shadows. A struggle ensued, as the man beat the beast from his throat. The other invader bashed the dog with the end of his pistol to his head. A pitiful whine came from Lucy before he slammed into the floor. He remained there deathly still, as the intruders moved forward for the fight.  
  
Pintel held up his lamp high and cleared his throat loudly to get the robber's attention. His light illuminated the stern dirty faces of the two hardened men. The one man, the one that Lucy had attacked, stood a slight bit taller than 5 feet. His long dirty hair could not be contained in his dirty bandana. His clothes were several sizes too big for him and were horribly mismatched. These clothes were as filthy as he was. His hazel eyes peered out of a shallow skeletal scarred weathered face. A scruffy grey beard lined his crooked jaw. He aimed his pistol with a claw like browned hand. His companion, who had attacked the dog, was a bronze skinned native American man. His uncovered midnight matted hair was pulled back and tied behind his head with a leather strip. His dark brown eyes bordering on black showed signs of an interior darkness, that made Pintel's insides tremble. He stood as tall as Ragetti, who was by no means a short man, and he was about as wide with a muscular body. A bird of prey was tattooed swooping over his right shoulder. The right wing of the bird was spread down the arm, and the left wing was not seen, since it was spread across the man's back. His clothes hung loosely enough to show most of the bird.   
  
Pintel squinted his eyes and leveled the pistol in their direction. He spoke in a strong clear voice that defied his rising terror. "I think if ye be valuin' yer mangy 'ides, ye be leavin' now. There be nuttin' 'ere fer ye."  
  
Ragetti held up his lamp and aimed his trembling pistol at the tall muscular native man. The one eyed man bit his lip and was determined to stay steady.  
  
The scrawny mismatched pirate held his pistol at the ready for a moment longer, then a smile cracked across his face. He lowered his weapon and laughed. The native man shook his head and wondered if his companion had lost his mind.  
  
"Pintel and Ragetti, it is, i'n't it?" he exclaimed through his relieved laughter, "And 'ere I thought we might be 'avin' a real fight on our 'ands!"  
Ragetti frowned and lowered his pistol. He squinted his eyes at the dirty little man. The glint of gold reflected from his lamplight from the teeth in the robber's grinning mouth. The tall one eyed pirate let out the breath he was unconsciously holding.  
  
"You're Nipperkin!" he cried out happily. He looked to the tall dark skinned man and smiled, "I don't know ye, but ya must be alright if ye be a friend to good ole Nippie!"  
"Who are these people, amigo?" he asked his small wiry companion.  
  
"Old crewmates of mine, I be sad to say. They be nuttin' to be worryin' 'bouts," Nipperkin remarked.  
  
"'Ow ye escape the gallows?" the one eyed pirate asked cheerfully.  
  
"Me and a couple of mates were stakin' out the ship fer loot when the tide turned. We 'id out till the ship came to port. A week later, Scratch, Dog Ear, and me joined up with the crew of The Raptor."  
  
"We caused a diversion to our guards. Slipped the wool right o'er their eyes, we did. Then, we were able to slip into town," Ragetti happily told them.  
  
The bronze skinned man looked over the tall lanky pirate with the goofy grin on his face and shook his head with disapproval. "I say that the British Navy must be bigger push overs than we expected, since they can't keep their hands on a couple of bastardos estupidos like you."  
  
Ragetti's looked affronted. "I told Pintel 'ere once that me mum and da were married when I was born!" he protested.  
  
"What are ye doin' 'ere?" Pintel demanded, as he raised his pistol again.  
  
"What's it look like?" snarled the bigger man.  
  
"Aye," added Nipperkin, "and what might ye be doin' 'ere in a bakery of all places? Ye can't e'en make 'ard tack without messin' it up!"  
"We've been given sanctuary," Pintel replied.  
  
"Hmpf!" the two raiding pirates remarked.  
  
"What fool would be stupid 'nough to give a pair of twits as yerselves sanctuary?" Nipperkin demanded.  
  
Ragetti opened his mouth to answer, but he caught the glare of his companion and snapped his mouth shut again.  
  
"None of yer business," Pintel growled, "Under the rules of the Pirates' Code and the rules of sanctuary, ye be obliged to leave this 'ere establishment with eve'ything in tact. So, get out!"  
  
"Since when?" remarked the wiry little man.  
  
"Besides," added the other pirate with the flames flickering ominously in in his dark eyes, "There be no honor among thieves. You can either join us, or die in the flames, comprende?"  
  
Pintel cocked his pistol. Ragetti continued to look hurted and confused. His companion elbowed him. The taller man shook his head and fumbled with his pistol. Then he followed suit and took aim at the robbers.  
  
"Ye be really frightenin' there, mate," cackled Nipperkin, "Pintel, 'o can't 'it the deck of the ship, e'en if 'e were standin' on it, and Ragetti, 'o ne'er killed nobod'!"  
  
"I killed someone!" the tall pirate protested with a raised pitch in his voice, "in that last battle 'fore the Royal Navy got us. I shot a man, as we came out of the lower decks."   
  
"Shootin' a feller in the arm don't count as killin' 'im, 'specially when he becomes one of our jailers!" remarked Pintel.  
  
"Right! I forgot that. 'E were right mad at me, too, 'e was," Ragetti answered as he blushed deeply, "I 'elped ye stab that soldier, remember?"  
  
"Ya missed, boy. Di'n't ye notice that there were no blood on yer blade?" the older pirate commented.  
  
"Ye ain't 'elpin' me case, 'Enry!" Ragetti complained, as his face became a livid red. He swallowed hard and looked back at the laughing invaders. "There's always a first time!"  
  
The two intruders looked at each other a moment in silence, then they laughed harder. They moved to throw the torches into the piles of rubble and the curtains. Nipperkin's face lit up as he approached the unconscious dog with all intentions of burning him, as he rubbed the bleeding bit on his shoulder. A movement behind the defending pirates caught the robbers' eyes, and they stopped their advance. Wicked smiles crossed their lips. Their venture may be profitable yet, if it did not satisfy their sadistic streak. Ragetti felt his insides turn over and turn to ice, and Pintel's knees felt weak.  
  
"What's going on, Uncle Tony, Uncle Henry?" asked the sleepy voice of Estella.  
  
The defending pirates' eyes grew wide, and they each swallowed down a sizeable lump in their throats. Ragetti uttered a rather volatile curse. He glanced down at the wide eyed frightened child, clutching her rag doll close to herself. All color fled from his face, and his lunch wanted to revolt. He bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. He forced himself to control his bladder.  
  
"Och," remarked Nipperkin, "What's we 'ave 'ere?"  
  
"Ye leave the littl' lady out of this," Pintel barked.  
  
"Join us, amigos, and take the child," the native man remarked, "We can fetch a decent ransom for her, and if it is not paid up, I know places where we can sell her."  
  
**"NO!!"** Ragetti cried out.  
  
"Then there is nuttin' fer it. They 'ave gone soft," the smaller man smirked, "I don't want to be listenin' to 'er cry all day and night, and we'd 'ave to share 'er price with the others. Just kill her and be done with it, then we can burn the blasted place!"  
  
The big muscular man gave a hearty belly laugh, as he took aim at the little girl. Chaos ensued. The cocking of several weapons filled the room. Pintel did not think. He hurried to the counter and rather agilely jumped over it. He stumbled unsteadily as he reached the other side. He kept his feet as ran to the big man. Neither attacker expected him to do this. The older pirate knew that he was not the best of shots. He had to accomplish his goal at point blank. If he got shot in the process, so be it. It had been a fun few weeks. He had gotten to live after the curse. He wished that he had gotten to see Penny and the kids again, but oh well. Nipperkin fired off his shot hurriedly at the attacking pirate. This was not the Pintel he knew. It missed. The Indian fired his shot, as the older man approached. But it was aimed at Estella and not Pintel, the ball flew passed him. Pintel's shot went off. The shot was aimed at his head. It reached its target. His opponent collapsed dead. Panting, Pintel fell to his knees. He turned his head. Nipperkin was sprawled out in an unnatural pose. A red pool spread across the floor under his body. Wiping the sweat from his eyes, he turned around to see Marita, standing in the doorway of the kitchen. The smoking musket was in her hand. Her glassy eyes stared over the horrible scene. He could hear Estella's muffled sobs. A knot tied in his stomach. Ragetti was not in his sights. The older pirate got up to protesting shaking legs and went to the counter. A sigh of relief washed over his body, as he saw Ragetti's back to him. The younger pirate was crouched down on the floor. Estella's muffled tears came from his cradling arms. Everyone that was important was alright. The squat pirate limped over to the unconscious dog to check on him.  
  
Marita woke from the daze. She threw aside her musket and ran to Ragetti and her daughter. Estella wept in her protective shelter, as the woman pried away the pirate's tightly embracing arms. She pulled the girl to herself and hugged her tightly. Tears began to tinkle down her cheeks. She pushed Estella back. The girl had only sustained some bruising from the force of Ragetti's protective attack.   
  
The younger pirate finally cracked open his eyes to see the bleary image of the woman smoothing out her child's hair and wiping her tears. The man smiled unnoticed and climbed unsteadily to his feet. His body was cold and numb, as he turned to see his friend trying to revive the dog. He felt dizzy, as he swayed on his feet. Pintel looked up from his unconscious canine companion. Shock was written on his face, as he looked to his tall companion. Ragetti smiled dazedly back at him. The feeling returned as the adrenaline faded from his body. He felt cold liquid ooze slither down his left arm and run down his chest and back. His shoulder started to sting with the sweat. He moved his right hand to his shoulder. His fingers pulled away wet and sticky with blood. He smiled crookedly.  
  
"'Enry, I'm bleedin'," he spoke dryly. His eye then rolled back in his head, and he collapsed in a heap on the floor.


	18. Chapter 18: Thank You

A/N: And for my loyal readers, don't worry about the title of this chapter. It just fit the subject matter. Catgirlulah, (I am still working on the spelling for your name. My spelling is awful, mind you!) I will be working on my spelling boo-boos soon. I am still bogged down with loads of goodies to read from that "Gryffindor Girls Group"! My! Folks like those naughty bits! Pei Pei, I will be reading your piece later on in the week, and I look forward to it. I always say the longer the chapters, the better the stories in most cases, but you are an excellent writer, and I feel most priviledged to have you reading this story.

Strangely enough, it is an irritation to me about using the line that Jack made about the Eunuch, but it worked so well in this chapter, that I had to do it. Well, Pintel hadn't used it before! That's a teaser for you guys!

Chapter 18: Thank you  
  
Ragetti woke to find himself in his own bed with the pillow and other interesting accessories under his head and his body laid out in a peaceful way on his back. This came as a complete surprise to him. Not only did he not usually sleep in such a neat position with all limbs on the bed, but usually when he ended up unconscious on the floor, he usually did not wake up in a more comfortable place or someplace, that did not involve him fully clothed and his face not in a puddle of mud. He blinked his good eye and his empty eye socket. Realization struck him as he brought his right hand up to the irritated eye socket. Oh hell, he thought, he'd have to go through the search for that blasted mischievous eye again.  
  
"It's safe," he heard a familiar female voice say, "I put it in your cup."  
  
He would have contemplated this voice in a rather naughty sort of way, but other parts of his body demanded his attention. He squelched up his face, as he moved his left arm, and the pain of his wound shot through him. This was not going to be a good day. Delicate callused hands pulled his right hand away from prodding the bandages about his left shoulder. His full vision and awareness took in the room . . . his and Pintel's room. Marita sat in a chair by his bed. A smile softly crossed her unnaturally pale face. Her usual well kept dark hair hung in disarray about around her shoulders, and her eyes had dark circles about them. Pintel stood in the background. He was a bit ruffled, too, but he held a bottle of rum in one hand and was sharing a sandwich in a rather unwilling sort of way with Lucy. Suffice it to say, the man had just taken a bite out of the food and then dropped his clutching hand down at the sight of his waking companion. Lucy, having little concern for Ragetti at this time and sensing the other man was fine, had his priorities. He casually sniffed at the obtainable tidbit, then gently slipped the non-proffered food out of his companion's hand. The dog had spent too much time with the two pirates.  
  
"'Bout time ye get yer lazy arse 'wake! Ye've been worryin' the ladies something awful!" he complained.  
  
Marita continued to silently smile at him, as she stroked his confused face. He blinked his good eye. His head hurt like he had one hell of a good time the previous night, but he couldn't remember drinking so much. He remembered him and Pintel playing cards and drinking a few good mouthfuls of rum, since he was the one to win a couple of games. The gin was for the loser, and Pintel ended up with that one most of the time during the game. Finally, full memories flooded back to him in a horrific fashion.  
  
"'Stella!" he cried out, as he jumped and tried to sit up.  
  
His shoulder made a rude complaint, and there was a weight on him. He felt a small hand grasp his night shirt from his left side. A gasp of sleepy breath caught his ears. He looked down to see the sleeping pale red cheeked and red rimmed eyed child cuddled on his chest and under the sling about his left arm. Her ever present doll, Miss Alice, was clutched under her. A great burden was lifted from his soul as he stroked her golden brown hair from her sleeping face. The carefully tied bandage around his right forearm caught his attention, and he puzzled it. Was there another shot he didn't hear, or did the pistol shot go through his right arm as well as his shoulder. here was no sign of blood or bandaging on the child. His right arm did not hurt when he moved it. His brow furrowed with further confusion, as he looked to his companions for answers.  
  
"She's fine thanks to you," Marita told him, "She didn't want to leave you. She was afraid that you would leave us even after the doctor declared that you would be fine. The shot went through you, and it didn't hit anything important."  
  
"And I says that Nippie di'n't shoot ye in the 'ead, so 'ow's he not 'it anything not important. That left arm or yers be more useful and important than that 'ead of yers, boy, and I says that that doctor be a royal quack, if ye be askin' me!"  
  
Marita turned on him with an icy stare. The man gave her a big grin, then his expression dropped as he felt the large soft wet tongue lapping at his now empty hand. He turned a vicious look at Lucy. The dog just sat down and panted happily.  
  
"The doctor looked me o'er?" the younger pirate asked with a terrified tremble in his voice and a tightening around his throat. He clutched at his bandaged forearm with another amazing question mark on his face mixed with pain from his wounded shoulder. Estella made several disgruntled noises, but she continued to sleep.  
  
"I told him that you had sustained some minor burns while helping me in the kitchen," the woman answered his terrified unasked question about his pirate brand. "He knows I know how to treat minor burns," she added dryly as she rubbed her wrists.  
  
A sigh of relief flooded his body, and he felt that imaginary rope loosen from his neck.  
  
"The mistress 'ere and me, we 'ad to drag yer dead weight in 'ere. Mate, ye really are goin' to 'ave to lay off them donuts and taste testin' the batter!" Pintel remarked, as he rubbed his lower back dramatically, "Then that Commodore feller showed up. Norry-butt, I think be 'is name . . ."  
  
"Norrington," Marita coolly corrected him.  
  
"Yeah, yeah," remarked the squat little man, as he waved a black and blue bruised arm towards her. "Any'ow, 'e came and asked all kinds of questions 'bout the fight and 'bouts us and that nasty littl' blood stain ye left on the floor out front. 'E insisted 'pon seein' ye." At these words, a smug smile crossed Pintel's lips, as the utter horror rose in his younger companion's eye. "'E di'n't know neither of us from Adam, boy. Marita 'ad already bandaged yer arm with the brand, and I 'ad stopped ye from bleedin' all o'er the place. It would ne'er do fer those treasures of yers, that ye keep in yer bed, to get all bloody, ye know," he added with a wink. Ragetti looked to Marita and gave her a nervous rotten tooth grin. With an effort, she remained passive. Pintel rambled happily on, "Anyways, ye be kind of a suspicious lookin' bugger with ye like goin' 'bout with loose sloppy clothes and bare feet and all. I told 'im that we came from that Italy place with all the canals, and ye used to steer one of those gondolly thingies. 'E weren't convinced and still wanted to check ye o'er right good 'til I told 'im that ye be one of those Eunuchs. 'E backed off right quick after that!"  
"I ain't no Eunuch!" the one eyed man complained loudly with blazing red cheeks. Estella grasped him tighter and grumbled sweetly in her sleep.  
  
"We know," Marita informed him with a disturbing knowing look. "Who do you think helped change you out of those bloody clothes and into that night shirt."  
  
Ragetti self consciously drew his knees in tight. his face turned alarming shades of red, and it burned worse than when he got sunburned earlier that week. He made a mental note not to be unconscious in Marita's presence again.  
  
"The Commodore sent one of his men to fetch the doctor. I guess Henry is good for something. I have never had to deal with shot wounds before, and he quickly assessed that the shot went straight through your shoulder, and for some reason, I didn't think that either one of you would know how to stop the bleeding or clean the wound. Henry proved me wrong." It was Pintel's turn to flush, as he looked down to his shuffling feet. The bakery mistress took in a deep breath and said, "And, well, . . . I wish to thank you both for your bravery."  
  
"But I were scared witless! That ain't no bravery!" Ragetti complained, "I nearly filled me britches when they raised their pistols." He looked down and lowered his voice, "And I dropped mine without firin' it."  
  
Marita gave him a soft laugh. She placed a hand on his good shoulder. "Bravery is not counted by the shots you fired or the men that you killed. You moved to save my child. You put your body in the way of the shot regardless of your fears. That is what bravery is all about, my dear Tony." His blue eye moved to meet her dark eyes. "So, I wish to thank you." She brushed a stray lock of wavy blonde hair from his face and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.  
  
A dazed look (a more dazed than usual) crossed his features, and against his recent mental notes and resolutions, he spent the rest of the night in a blissful state of unconsciousness with a jovial smile on his face. Oh well, he wasn't much of a mental person anyway, and besides, he couldn't read that mental note.  
  
She shook her head and turned to the remaining pirate. Pintel was in the middle of a good hearty swig from the rum bottle. Their eyes met, and he sputtered and spewed the drink all over himself. The lack of anger towards him in those dark eyes confused the devil out of him. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt.  
  
"What?" he growled.  
  
"Henry," she said in that commanding voice, "Come here."  
  
"What now, woman!" he demanded, as his bottle hung limply in his hand. Lucy's brow furrowed in concentration on how he could get to the rum inside. "I ain't done nuttin' . . . yet!"  
  
"Come here," she repeated.  
  
"What?" he continued to complain, as he stood defiantly in place.  
  
"Come here, now!!" she insisted.  
  
"Bloody woman!" he grumbled, as he approached her cautiously.  
  
She stood up from her chair at Ragetti's bedside. She looked eye to eye with the rather lecherous ornery old pirate with spewed rum on his bruised face. The acrobats he tried to perform during the fight, like he was a man of half his age, had done some harm to him. It was only right to thank him. She bit her lip and swallowed down her resolve. Gingerly she placed her hands on his shoulders. If he touched her in any questionable place, he was going to most certainly lose a limb or two. A look of confusion that would rival his partner's specialties, crossed his face.  
  
"Thank you, Henry," she said, as she took a deep breath. She really didn't want to do this. So, with much misgivings, she kissed him on the forehead.  
  
Pintel's body went numb and rigid. The rum bottle slipped from nerveless fingers to shatter on the floor. The older pirate had been kissed by plenty of women, and, on special occasions, when he was actually home, Mrs. Pintel actually kissed him. It was rare indeed that he was kissed by a respectable lady that he didn't pay for.  
  
Marita shook her head. Somehow that wasn't as bad as she thought it would be, (He had had a bath within the last three days.) and she certainly didn't expect that kind of reaction from him. She moved to bent over the bed to retrieve her daughter from the other pirate's clutches. Both Estella's grip on the man and Ragetti's grip on the child were too great. She could force them apart, but that would most likely wake the stressed little girl. She paused. Did she trust her daughter in this cretinous criminal's care? He did, after all, risk his life for her. It would have been easy enough for them to make good their escape with her as the prize to ransom or sell with the other pirates. She felt that Ragetti might think of her child as his lost younger sister, and in a way, that made Estella safe with him. Against all her misgivings, she gave in, as she stroked her child's face. She would let them be. The child had had a hard night. Sometimes she forgot how hard Karl's death had been for the little girl, and the child's terrified tears at the sight of the blood, flowing freely from the lowlife pirate, sorely reminded her of her husband's bloody body on the street and Estella, trying to desperately wake him.  
  
She turned from them and moved to leave the room. Lucy cheerfully helped himself to the spilled rum. Pintel remained dazed. She huffed and cleared her throat. The pirate did not respond.  
  
"And clean up that mess before you go to bed," she ordered.  
  
"Yes, ma'am," he answered in an unconscious sort of way.


	19. Chapter 19: Breakfast in the Caribbean

A/N: This has been the week from Hell, but I have finally got this chapter together!

My thanks out ot my special reviewers Peipei and Catgirlutah, who have been hanging in there with me for quite some time now. And thanks to BlackJackSilver and Blacklabel. Blacklabel, your stories rock, and BlackJackSilver, I will be reading your stories real soon, promise!

Special little note for this text, there really is such a thing as Green Pepper Jelly, mind you. Don't know what it is used for, but it is out there!

Chapter 19: Breakfast in the Caribbean  
  
Marita knew that there was no way that she and Estella would make morning mass. It was not a good thing when one finally crawled into bed to see the sky purpling with the coming of the dawn, and she was normally up and about an hour before this time. Those two lousy lowlifes were messing up her routine. The last time she stayed up this late through the night was when Karl died, and somehow clumsy and scattered brained as they were, they were involved with that time, too. Yes, they were definitely chaos to her well ordered life. She smiled with a slight laugh on her lips as she collapsed into her bed. They certainly were making her life more interesting. God would have to forgive her for missing services today.  
  
She was dreaming of being at the foothills of the valley she grew up in. The white of the snow was blinding over the harvested fields. She could see Pintel, Ragetti, Estella, and Lucy were all there, too. The men were throwing snowballs at each other, and they were actually on target for a change. The dog sniffed at a small brown rabbit, who was more than capable of defending itself. Estella pulled at her skirt and pointed to the snowman she had made, that had walnuts for a crooked smile, a butter knife for a nose, and a marble for its one eye. Marita puzzled this as she approached it to find the structure was not made of snow after all, but it was made of dough. Estella pulled at her sleeve, as the woman pulled a hunk from its shoulder. The men's laughter sounded like sea gulls circling. The dough in her hand smelled strangely of potatoes and toast. There was also a strong penetrating smell of peppers. She wrinkled her brow.  
  
"Mrs. Marita," she heard Ragetti's voice urge her and felt his timid long fingers tap her shoulder. She fluttered her eyelids to see her well lit room filled by the afternoon sunlight. She grasped white cotton sheets in her fingers. She pulled herself up and turned around into a sitting position. She looked at the tall one eyed man and the child at his side, who bore a tray with food and a bottle on it.  
  
She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and looked at the uninvited guests in her bedroom. Ragetti cheerfully beamed at her with no sign of lechery. He was fully clothed, although still insistent upon being barefooted. He wore his usual loose shirt, that he had tried to tuck into his pants. The sling was still tied around his left arm. She could see that the bandages were bloodied, and she correctly assumed that he had been moving the wounded arm around too much.  
  
Estella was dressed in a haphazard sort of way. Her hair was combed, true enough, but it was pulled back a bit off to the right of center. She had several loose strands of hair hanging from the bunch. Half the lace with all the frills were missing from her dress, as Ragetti had given up in complete confusion of how these girlie things all fit together or were applied or tied. Estella was quite amused at his unsuccessful attempts and his managing to tie the lace and himself into seventeen amusing sailor knots. The little girl did not even bother with fancy frilly slips and hoops nor did she wear shoes or socks at this time. The mistress of the house only rolled her eyes. The child was already picking up bad habits from the pirates. If running about barefooted was all she picked up from these two, she'd be lucky.  
  
She pulled herself up and sat with the pillows to her back. Estella offered her the tray, and as the lady finally noticed in the bright sunlight that the man and the child were covered in flour, and Ragetti had a greenish pulp like substance on his shirt, his sling, and in his hair. She looked at the meal presented to her. There was a heaping mound of mash potatoes, that at one time had been molded into something, maybe a castle, but it had slithered down into something completely indescribable. Off to the side were two pieces of toast lightly browned with a bowl of a heaping pile of butter, good enough for two loaves of bread and another bowl of some sort of green jelly substance that matched the mush on Ragetti. Marita was afraid to guess what the green stuff might be, but from the sinus opening qualities it exhibited, she would make a wild guess that it was green pepper jelly. She didn't have to guess what was in the amber bottle, as she narrowed her eyes at it.   
  
Her two uninvited guests gave a pair of smiles of insufferable pride at their grand achievement. "It be passed noon, ma'am," Ragetti happily chirped, "And since you were so nice 'bouts gettin' me all fixed up and all last night and lookin' o'er me, I thought 'Stella and me could whip you up some breakfast."  
  
"And I found a big green pepper for Uncle Tony," the little girl added happily.  
  
"Made the jelly fer yer toast meself!" he added with a wide grin and a tug at his shirt collar, "And the rum were fer tonight, but I thinks a special lady deserves it more," he added with warm blood rushing to his cheeks.  
  
She looked over the meal with suppressed disgust. Her husband was the drinker of the family, and the pirate was a bit too fond of spicy foods. She picked up the toast and nibbled at it. It did not turn out bad, and it looked to be the most edible thing on the plate.  
  
Ragetti looked around the single room in curiosity. He moved over to the window, that looked out on the bustling street below. He pulled back to the shadows as he saw a pair of redcoats walking down the street and chatting amicably with each other. He turned to the lady, who sat up in the big full sized four poster bed. He smiled brightly. "Ne'er been in yer bedroom 'fore. It be nice," he remarked, as he unconsciously took note of her different possessions about the place.  
  
He poked at the dressing screen with her clothes and slips hanging over it. The structure folded in on itself and tumbled into the man. He hurried to right it again with very little success. He became draped in a series of the baker's undergarments. He stood up from the mess he had created with her bodice draped over his head and her slip over his shoulders like a shawl. He felt his face burn out to the tip of his nose. Estella helped him stand the dressing screen back up, and the pirate tried to neatly drape the clothes back over it. He picked up one of her stockings with the garter included, and he felt an embarrassed lump in his throat, as he hid it behind his back. The child took it from his hand and put it back on the screen.  
  
Being awake for a little while longer, and awareness of her present company struck her like the dressing screen, she realized that she had a man (albeit a goofy piece, but still a man), that she was not married to in her bedroom and she was inappropriately dressed. She cleared her throat and said quite sternly, "Tony Ragetti . . ."  
  
"Aye, ma'am," he answered distractedly, as he moved on to her dresser. He fully inspected a wooden box there. He lifted the lid to discover a small collection of jewelry and made a mental note of it, but mental notes were not his strong point. A cheerful little melody played, and he jumped back surprised. Curious as a cat, he poked at the jewels with in (and took another mental note to their worth), but they were not the source of music. He picked up the box and inspected it further for the device that caused the sound. The thought of witchcraft fled his mind, as he remembered hearing about such things in fancy high society from Randal. He stole one for that special girlfriend of his from some big mansion. Ragetti never got to see it personally, but he heard about it. He briefly wondered what they were doing now. It had been so long since he had seen the gang.  
  
"Mr. Ragetti, I don't think I ever gave you permission to be in my rooms, much less my bedroom."  
  
"Uh . . ." he answered, as he put the box back on the dresser.  
  
"Another words, GET OUT!!" she ordered.  
  
He swallowed a rather large lump down. "Yes, ma'am," he replied as he tripped to the door.  
  
"Nothing had better be missing from my collection either!" she growled.  
  
"Aye, ma'am!" he answered as he stumbled out the doorway. The two remaining females soon heard the clattering and the thump of the tall pirate tumbling down the steps and landing on the ground floor with a moan.  
  
Estella quickly ran to her clumsy friend's aid. Marita sighed and got out of bed. Within a quarter of an hour, she headed down to the bakery. What met her eyes was not a pretty sight. Ragetti, with the child's help, had done quite an incredible job of creating a complete disaster area out of the kitchen. Pintel would have been most proud of his pupil, if he had not remained sprawled out unconscious in his bed through the whole incident. Lucy, not being particularly loyal to one specific member of the family, especially when food was involved, sat in the middle of the mess with that contented well fed look on his face. There were potato peels in the most unusual places, and Estella and Ragetti were having a potato peel flinging contest at Pintel's old boot that propped open the door to the outside. For a change, Ragetti seemed to be winning but only by a narrow margin.  
  
Marita stood at the foot of the stairs. She crossed her arms and cleared her throat loudly. No one paid her any attention, as Ragetti made a double decker super duper potato peel flip that dunk three potato peels into the boot at once. The little girl jumped up and down with squeals of delight, and the pirate beamed proudly. He turned around and suddenly came eye to eye with the fiery glare of the mistress of the household.  
  
"Afternoon, Mrs. Marita," he replied nervously, "I 'ope breakfast were to yer likin'."  
  
"What are you doing?" she inquired reluctantly.  
  
"Uh . . . well . . ." he answered, as he ran his good hand through his hair. "'Stella and me, well, we . . .uh . . . are cleanin' up our mess, ye see . . ."  
  
"Uh hun," she remarked sternly, "and that means flipping the leftovers in your friend's shoe?"   
  
"Oh, 'Enry won't mind. 'E's 'ad worse thing in 'is shoes. There be that time we picked up this prissy littl' man named Evans, and 'e just couldn't get 'is sea legs. Well, 'Enry's foot and boots are quite a size, and well, some of our crewmates 'ave some strange and exotic recipes for dinner, that take special taste and don't sit well with others. Anyway, Evans weren't feelin' too good 'fore we gave him one of Bo'sun's dishes, and we found 'Enry's boot quite useful for the situation, especially after we 'it that big wave."  
  
"Enough," she cried out. She was still feeling a bit queasy from her lovely breakfast served her. "Clean up your mess, and I'll clean up the mess you made of my daughter." She looked over at the bedraggled little girl.  
  
An hour later saw Estella cleaned and prissed, and the kitchen was back in some semblance of order. Wearing his nightshirt and scratching his backside, Pintel entered the kitchen. He wandered the kitchen a moment confused and wearing only one boot. He groggily spotted his old boot at the door, and slouched his way over to it. Taking back his old boot, he caused the door to slam shut, and the noise did nothing to wake him further, nor did the potato peels in his boot do anything for him. He crammed the other left boot on his right foot without a second thought.  
  
He staggered over to the brewing teapot on the fire. He carefully fetched it and poured himself a cupful, then he dug out a bottle of gin from his left boot on the left foot. He eyed the contents of the bottle a moment, took a swig, then emptied the bottle into the steaming cup of tea. Squinting his eyes closed, he downed the hot drink. The bitterness slid down his system with a vile grimace on his face. Afterwards, he crawled back into his room like a silent spectre. A half an hour later, he re-emerged somewhat more awake and more disgruntled. He waddled through the kitchen with his mismatched two left boots and carrying a bucket and a broom.  
  
"Henry," Marita called to the older man.  
  
He turned on her with a groggy scowl. "What now, woman?" he growled, " I be off to do yer bloody chores!"  
  
"Nevermind the chores, you have earned the day off. I do appreciate your protection of my child and my home. Just try to keep out of trouble."  
  
Pintel puzzled her a bit, then being the type that was not exactly enthused about any kind of chores, he threw the broom to the side and dug through the materials in the bucket, then came up with the bottle of rum. He saluted her with it then turned to go out the door. He paused, then put his fingers to his mouth and whistled. Lucy came bounding across the room, and the man and dog left to booze up for the day.  
  
Ragetti let go a sigh and his face drooped into a downcast expression, as he cleaned off the counter. Marita touched his good shoulder lightly. "And you," she questioned, "What will you do after I change your bandages? Would you preferred to go join Henry or would you prefer to stay in here and continue your reading lessons?"  
  
His brow furrowed with concentration of a most difficult decision, "Uh . . ." he answered simply.  
  
"I thought as much," she remarked, as she pulled him away from his work. Estella brought clean towels and water and put them on the table. Ragetti smiled brightly at the perfectly dressed little girl. She returned his smile and curtsied like a lady. She, then, ran up to her room to get her doll and the study books.  
  
Marita pulled his blood stained shirt down to exposed the blood soaked bandage covering his shoulder. She shook her head. "You need to keep this shoulder still to heal, you know."  
  
The one eyed man blushed fluently. "I thought I did. Couldn't figure out why I needed a sling, so I took it off. I mean, I just 'urt me shoulder, right, not me arm, but it started to hurt real bad after 'while, and it started to bleed. So, I put the sling back on."  
  
"Have you ever been shot before now?" she queried.  
  
The blonde pirate scratched his head and shut his left eye, leaving him in the dark once again, as he tried to think. "I don't think so. I 'ave been shot at lots of times, and not all of 'em enemies neither. Bo'sun used me and 'Enry lots of time fer target practice."  
  
"He must have been a lousy shot then," Marita remarked as she cleaned away the blood from his wound. The pistol shot had torn quite a hole in his shoulder, and several stitches were required. Fortunately, with all the man's activities, he did not pull the stitches out.  
  
"Uh, 'e weren't a bad shot. Not like 'Enry, anyway. He nailed 'Enry through the leg and broke 'is shin bone, too."  
  
"I bet your captain loved that."  
  
"Nah. Barbossa just rooted 'im on to put a few more 'oles in 'im," Ragetti remarked.  
  
"Henry isn't that good of help at the best of times, he's worse wounded. I would think that your captain wouldn't want his help laid up for several weeks for foolishness," she commented as she finished her cleaning.  
  
"Ah, 'Enry weren't that much of a burden. 'E were up and at 'em the next day," he happily continued.  
  
"I doubt that. A broken leg is no laughing matter, and you are not immortal, you know. Your crewmate must not have broke his bone, and he must not have shot it through like you. It must have only grazed him," she commented as she poured iodine on a cloth and applied it to his wound. He yelped out a hearty cry of pain, as it burned him down to his fingers. She narrowed her dark eyes at him. "Wuss," she called him.  
  
His cheeks flared bright red as she bandaged his wound again. "For a man, who has lost an eye and has been beaten with the nine tails, you certainly squeamish about pain."  
  
He shrugged and smiled. She leaned over him to secure the bandage in place, then she suddenly stood up straight. A dour expression crossed her face, and her dark eyes burned a hole into the grinning man before her.  
  
"If you plan on keeping that hand, I suggest that you remove it immediately from that part of my anatomy."   
  
Although the vocabulary she used was beyond him, he immediately pulled his right hand back to himself and away from questionable body parts. "Ye wouldn't be 'ittin' a wounded man, now would ye?" he asked nervously.  
  
"I wouldn't test it, if I were you."


	20. Chapter 20 Looney Tooney

A/N: Things are a mess at home right now, and this chapter may not have come off as good as it could have, but I am still hacking away. This is the last chapter of this part of the two inept pirates' first stage after their escape. I have some nasty little things in store for them coming up. And Mullroy and Murtag will be returning soon.

My thanks go out to my wonderful readers. You keep me going. Thanks to PeiPei, Catgirlutah, and Blacklabel for reading consistently. And thanks, Bill for actually leaving reviews.

Chapter 20: Looney Tooney  
  
Although Marita had given Ragetti free reign to go out and get completely and utterly sloshed with his friend and his canine buddy, the one eyed pirate ended up inside, in the kitchen with the female residents. It was not to say that he would not have preferred to have joined Pintel and Lucy and their entertaining activities, that would most certainly render him unconscious before the sun sunk below the horizon. Quite the contrary were his feelings, but somehow, when the five year old came running into the kitchen with her arms full of books and that happy gleeful smile on her lips and those big wide cheerful and hopeful dark eyes, he was coerced into staying for the reading lesson to enlighten that dingy place known as his mind instead of boozing up and blowing out the candles upstairs.  
  
Soon books were opened, various objects were put on the table, and paper, ink, and quills were placed before the tall lanky man. Estella's laughter filled the room as she tried to teach him his letters by doing show and tell. She did quite a convincing performance of a cat by meowing and rolling about on the floor. The man thought it was quite a good rendition and applauded her efforts. Marita was less enthused, especially with the amount of dirt she managed to get on her clothes from the floor.  
  
After a couple of hours (and a tea break in there) of examples and play acting by the child, Marita decided to put some of their teachings into practice. She inked a quill and turned to her confused but eager student, who was watching her with some misgivings. Her face was passive and professional, much like the day he and Pintel had first met her, but he did not miss the favor written in her dark sparkling eyes. He watched and silently enjoyed the glint of sunlight on her smooth silken mahogany silken hair. The smell of her perfume made him smile and daydream about things that would have gotten him smacked if only she knew. Her words spoken from those cherry lips traveled into his ears, passed through without even a snack break and touched nothing tangible in between.  
  
"What handed are you?" she asked as she held the quill out to him. "If you are left handed, this will have to wait until you are a little more healed."  
  
His expression went blanker than the page before him, but what else was new. His brow furrowed with concentration, and his good eye moved inward to look at his nose in an ineffective effort of crossing, but it found such actions impossible without the right partner. "Uh . . .?" he answered intelligently, "I don't know. I ain't ne'er tried to write an'thing 'fore now."  
  
A frown crossed the bakery mistress' face, but her eyes were still bright and giving. She sighed exasperated. "Which is your dominate hand?" Confusion continued to parade happily across his face. Chagrin presented itself to the woman. He was making this harder than it should have been. His brow furrowed with thought. There had to be something that he could relate to that she could say in front of her daughter. "Which hand do you shoot your pistol with?"  
  
"I di'n't shoot last night," he replied defensively.  
  
She blew out a breath with more disgust. She wanted to smack him now. Never again would she try to teach the brain dead, she promised herself. "If you were to shoot, which hand would you use?" she inquired with forced patience.  
  
"Uh . . ." he answered, as he scratched his head in thought. The roots of his golden hair were smoldering with the effort. "The right one!" he exclaimed joyfully as the answer came to him in a flash. He wiggled his long fingers of the empty right hand. His appendage did not remain empty for long. Marita put the quill into the dancing fingers. Confused puzzlement crossed Ragetti's paling face, as he wrapped his fingers around the quill like one would a stick or a door handle.  
  
"I want you to write your name," she ordered him, "Estella and I have spent the best part of four hours showing you letters, teaching you their sounds, and showing you the words on the page. Your turn. Show me what you have learned."  
  
"I don't remember all those letters! There were an awfully lot of them!" he answered defensively, as his cheeks turned a brilliant shade of red against his dead white pale face.  
  
"Try," she insisted gently. He bit his lower lip and trembled. He should have paid more attention to her words and her teaching than her cleavage. "I won't make fun of you, I promise. I am asking you to do something kind of hard for the first time, but I think it would be something special to you and you would remember it better. Besides, it is something practical. Just your first name is alright for now. 'Ragetti' will take more practice."  
  
Ragetti swallowed down the growing lump in his throat. He really should have joined Pintel, Lucy, and that bottle of rum outside. He knew what he was doing on those grounds. He grasped the quill around with his fingers, and he felt a complaint from his bladder. He thought about excusing himself and not returning until he was properly sloshed.  
  
Marita pushed back a stray lock of hair. She placed her left hand lightly on his left shoulder, and with her delicate right hand, she positioned his fingers around the writing instrument the proper way. The butterflies came out of their hiding and fluttered about his stomach and began to move up his esophagus.  
  
After several frustrating minutes, she finally got him to write something in an unsteady hand. He spelled out "T-O-O-N-E-Y". She smacked her forehead with the palm of her opened hand. She shook her head and decided to give up for the day. Besides, it was drawing on time for dinner. Estella gathered up the books and ran off to put them away.  
  
"I guess me da were right. I'm too daft to learn an'thing fancy," the pirate spoke quietly, as his shoulders drooped.  
  
Marita paused in her gathering of the food for the evening meal and looked at him. She sighed and put the stuff down on the table before him and shook her head. She had been too harsh on him. She knew it.  
  
"You are doing alright. I'm just an impatient teacher. The lesson seems very easy to me, but I have been able to read and write for more than 20 years, and Estella already knows so much, but I have been teaching her for quite some time now, and it is almost like walking and talking for her. You are a bit older and set in your ways. I shouldn't be so discouraged with you nor should I discourage you. You were kind of close." She paused and took up the quill, that Estella had left behind and dipped in the inkwell. She wrote out his name under his attempt as "T-O-N-Y", He looked at it and smiled brightly. "So," she added, "No self pity and no talking yourself down. Enough of all of this and help me get dinner together, Tooney," she smirked.  
  
His cheeks puffed up and turned some amazing shades of red, as he looked down. She placed a hand under his chin and forced his face upwards to look at her. A pleasant smile played across her lips. "I know," she confessed, "I promised not to make fun of you, but it is a funny sounding word. You were close."  
  
His frown disappeared, although his face remained terribly flushed. She let him go, and he took the vegetables that she had brought him. He cleaned and chopped them up with minimal use of his left hand. It was harder than it looked to keep his left shoulder still all the time. He never realized how useful that arm and hand were until he had limited use of it. Once he had finished, and Marita had smacked him in the head four times for flipping peas at Estella, he was told firmly to go and find that lowlife Pintel and Lucy and get them out of whatever trouble the older man had gotten them into.  
  
Ragetti had no trouble in finding his partner of many and various crimes, and the picture was not a pretty one to paint. Since Pintel went out the back door, he and the dog had disappeared into the greenery, that the two pirates had found upon their escape from the Royal Navy. Ragetti found Lucy unconscious, tangled, and suspended from the ground by a couple of feet in growing vines. The one eyed man cocked his head and stared at the scene before him, and he tried to figure out how the dog got himself into such an interesting position and such a tie of limbs, but it was beyond him, and he had used his brain too much that day. In a messy sort of way, scattered through the growth of greenery and trees, were pieces of Pintel's clothing. The younger pirate followed his friend's clothing to find the man in the flesh. The squat older man was sprawled out in a compromising position and butt naked on a bed of moss. Needless to say, when Pintel woke up tomorrow, he was going to have a nasty sunburn in a delicate place, and he was likely to have weed poisoning where the sun don't shine. A good part of Ragetti was quite glad that he was safe in the kitchen when all this happened, and then again, another part of him was rather jealous that he had missed out on being stupidly drunk and doing equally stupid things.  
  
The younger pirate sighed, fetched two buckets of water, one at a time, and unceremoniously gave each of his friends a cold bath and a rude awakening. Lucy struggled awake and went flying and not exactly gracefully from the vine entanglement. Ragetti was aware enough and fast enough to avoid being squashed by the giant dog.  
  
Pintel did not take his bath too well either. The older pirate sputtered and spewed some interesting comments, and he called Ragetti some equally interesting things, that weren't exactly true, given that Ragetti hadn't seen his mother since he was 14, and he would never think about doing such things to her. The other name was more accurate of Lucy. Grumbling and collecting his clothes, Pintel followed his friend back into the bakery.  
  
Dinner went on without a hitch, and since the moon was still a bit on the full side, the pirates weren't too keen on going carousing about. So, they got to bed at a somewhat reasonable hour, and they looked like they may have been on this side of the living for a change on Monday morning, despite being a bit hung over. One could not ask for a miracle. Marita had cut Ragetti's chores down significantly, because she didn't want him messing his arm up further. This brought many and various complaints from Pintel. The bakery mistress turned on him and casually kneed him to shut him up. While the older man crawled into a ball of pain, Marita helped the tall man setup his afternoon chores of watching the baking and minor cleaning up of things in the kitchen.  
  
Estella got a special job, too. Marita still had her shopping to do, and since she could not get the child to stay away from the two scallywags while she was gone, she found the perfect job for her. Pintel, for all his flaws, was still the best to take care of the front and the customers. So, the little girl's special assignment was to sit up front and help the older pirate do his job properly by keeping his mouth in order and his hands out of other people's pockets.  
  
"I don't need no baby sitter!" he complained loudly, "And especially not a baby one!"  
  
Marita turned on him with that cool smirk on her lips. "If you act the puerile, you will be treated like a baby."  
  
"Madam, there is nuttin' pure 'bouts me!" he insisted.  
  
"I believe that one for a change," she commented as she left the bakery.  
  
The bakery was exceptionally busy, because news and rumors flew around at the speed of the wind in a hurricane through the town. Many people had that morbid need to see the place where the raiding pirates were shot down. They wanted to see the brave heroes of the fight and the remaining blood stains. Of course, like any story or tidbit of news, things were blown out of proportion, and somehow Pintel became a brave warrior hero, who bare handedly took on six armed pirates, who held the mistress and the child captive. This wasn't to say that Pintel didn't help embellish these stories further.  
  
Ragetti's part was muddled about, too. Sometimes the man was said to have hid behind the counter while the others fought, while other stories told of his grand cunning in rescuing the woman and the child from the kidnappers. Either story made him draw that blank look and blush terribly, and he shrunk back to the kitchen to return to his chores and his reading lessons.  
  
Although fond of basking in his own glory, Pintel was glad to be done with the day. This wasn't to say that he didn't help the customers out of the store rather forcefully. Lucky for all involved, Marita returned early enough to close down shop for the evening and give the older man a couple of hours of relief. Estella just continued to bustle around as usual, and the customers were entertained by the cute little urchin.  
  
Neither man needed much coaxing to go to bed early, although Pintel had procured four separate dates for the evening. He just couldn't break any of those precious ladies' hearts by saying "no". Nevermind he stood them all up. Oh well, he always knew he was a heartbreaker. Although Marita did not approve of her help socializing on the job in this manner, she had to admit the man's pockets were clean and she was pleased with the day's progress. Pintel and Ragetti both received an extra bottle of rum for a job well done.  
  
Although business slowed down after the first week, things went well for the following couple of weeks. The men went back to getting sloshed on Friday night, but they managed to get back home Saturday night. Although Ragetti had a hangover that would have killed the average man. he was up and about on Sunday afternoon for his reading lessons. At some point in time, he got the gist of it all, and he made some real progress, but his glory was short lived. In four weeks time, something happened that changed the daily routine the two men had fallen into.


	21. Chapter 21: Ladies in Disguise

A/N: This was a fun little piece, and the misconception in the chapter is intentional. I believe Elizabeth stayed and got married to Will. Just Pintel and Ragetti don't know that.

My thanks to my lovely reviewers, and because of you i am able to continue writing this. It gives a purpose in life! Yay! And here I thought my purpose was to be the bitch of the year! :) Hey, we all have lofty goals!

My thanks to Catgirlutah and Piratedragon for sticking with me. And it is about time, Bill! You need to write some of this stuff. And I know that Blacklabel and PeiPei will read this eventually. So, it keeps me happy!

Chapter 21: Ladies in Disguise  
  
Pintel finished serving the most recent customer, and the little bell above the door tinkled to signal the man's departure. The pirate grumbled a hearty "'Bout time!" as he dropped the coins in the cash box for the day. He glanced down at his partner Ragetti, who was sitting on the floor and hidden behind the counter with his long legs stretched out to their full length and wiggling his bare toes against the wall. His back was to the counter, and a big book was laid out on his lap and propped up on the big black dog's back. Lucy was busy eyeing the plate of tea biscuits at the younger pirate's side. A large mug of ale was on his opposite side and closest to the older man. Pintel bent over and seized up the mug and took a long strong drink of it, then he plopped the half empty mug back down. He wiped his mouth off on his sleeve. He hated this customer service thing, especially since their pockets were off limits to him.  
  
Ragetti ignored his friend's grumbling, as he took a drink from the mug. It had been four weeks since he was shot, and the sling had finally come off this morning, but his shoulder was still a bit tender. In Marita's opinion, he was not really healed enough to do heavy labor, so he still had limited chores. He didn't argue. It got him out of work. Unfortunately, he found out the hard way, that taking a bath was not considered hard labor, and he did not need assistance, no matter how much he complained about the pain in his shoulder and needing her help. Marita could be quite a persuasive person in many and various painful ways.  
  
It was Monday afternoon, and, although still a bit grogged from the previous night, the men weren't as bad off as they had been for the previous three weeks. The moon was too close to full for proper partying this weekend. So, the men stayed at home, played cards, and got totally sloshed on the supplies in the house.  
  
Marita went out on her normal household shopping this day, and she took Estella with her to pick out material for a new dress. So, having finished his reduced chores and feeling that his partner was far too lonely up front, Ragetti felt it prudent that he go sit up front with him and the dog. The reading lessons that the mistress of the household were starting to sink in pretty good of late, and so he chose to bring one of her books with him, and he was appropriately aggravating about the words he didn't understand or he mispronounced, and asking Lucy may have been more productive than asking the older pirate, who not so subtly offered to do things with that book that the author had never intended.  
  
"Prissy good fer nuttin' pretty boy!" Pintel grumbled about his last customer.  
  
Ragetti looked up from his book. He almost looked normal. Marita had taken his wooden eye, against all his protests, for three days and painted it to match his real eye, then she some wax on it to smooth out the splinters. The eye had seen better days in its last thirty years of existence. Although he did not want to be parted with it for that long of a time (It was like he was bereft of his best friend), he had to admit it didn't itch quite as bad, nor did it fall out as often. To complete his appearance, he had chosen to grow a mustache, that rather complimented the features of his face well. This wasn't to say that Pintel did not jibe him about it often.  
  
"At least, he di'n't make a pass at ye," Ragetti remarked, as he took up one of the tea biscuits to offer it to the man. The disturbance of the said food alerted Lucy, and he sat up. He quietly and gently closed his slobbering jaws around the cookie. The younger man narrowed his eyes menacingly at the dog. Lucy relented. The one eyed man looked down on the now slobbery cookie. He shrugged and wiped it off on his shirt, then he offered it to Pintel again. The other man snatched it from him and popped it into his mouth.  
  
Choosing to ignore his friend's earlier remark, the older pirate sneered "Are ye gettin' anything out of that book?" as he spewed cookie crumbs everywhere.  
  
Ragetti shrugged. "Some. I wish I were smart like Mrs. Marita and 'Stella."  
  
"Bah!" Pintel complained, "Ye keep all this big sophisticated namby pamby stuff up, and ye'll be turnin' into one those nancy prancy pretty boys like what just left."  
  
"Always wanted to be a bit fancy," the younger man replied, as he slipped the drooling Lucy a cookie, "Be something other than a thieving street rat."  
  
Pintel leaned back on the counter. "Och! Ye be more than a thieving street rat. Ye be a full blooded thieving bloody pirate. Ye and me, we've plundered and pillaged our little black 'earts out. We 'ave lived more than any of those priss aristocratic fops could e'er dream of. We've done things that would make 'em fill their britches. 'Ell! We've been things to scare the life out of 'em. Nah. I prefer bein' me than one of them."  
  
"I'm still me, and I'll always be me. Kinda be 'ard to be someone else. It would take some god or devil to be takin' me soul 'way and stuffin' someone else's soul in me body, and who would want to be me other than me."  
  
Pintel's brow furrowed and steam rolled from his ears. He squinted his left eye as he tried to figure out what his partner was talking about. Before he was able to give it up for a hopeless cause, the bell jingled again. He muttered a not so nice curse, as he went back to work. It didn't take long for him to let loose a low appreciative whistle through his rotted teeth, as he laid eyes upon the fancy young attractive lady and her charming maid servant. He gave his partner a firm nudge with his boot, as the ladies approached the counter. The upper class lady had long curly light brown hair, that framed her delicate elven face. Her hourglass figure needed no corset to enhance its shape, and he did note that she wasn't wearing one. All men must have their hobbies. As her blue eyes greeted him, he felt the tug of familiarity at the edges of his memory, then he felt a different kind of tug at his shirt tail, before he was able to open his lecherous mouth.  
  
At Pintel's kick, Ragetti turned around onto his knees and peered over the counter at the new customers of interest. The cookies, now being unguarded, were greedily consumed by the dog. The one eyed pirate's eyes opened wide, and because Marita had put so much work into that wooden orb, it stayed put. The man felt a brick hit his gut with an amazing force, and he nearly lost his tea biscuits and ale with it. He swallowed down his pounding heart in his throat. He gave Pintel's untucked shirt tail a good firm yank.  
  
The older man ceased scratching his head in thought, held up a finger to the lovely ladies, and bowed behind the counter. Anger burned in his eyes as he looked at his trembling companion. "This 'ad better be good, you lout brained git!"  
  
"Do you know who that be? The gov'rnor's daughter and 'er maid. Ye remember, we kidnapped 'er from 'er mansion, 'cause she 'ad the coin."  
  
The older pirate gave the two chatting women a side long glance. A nasty lump formed in his throat, as the power of recognition slammed into his brain. "Bloody 'ell!" he spat.  
  
"What are we gonna do, 'Enry?" the younger whined.  
  
"Don't fret, boy. I be thinkin' up something right now," he replied, as he stood up to his attentive pose.  
  
A stupid smile crossed his pale face. Elizabeth Swann looked at him with that slight spark of recognition, but it did not ignite anything. The filthy pirate, who had kidnapped her several months earlier, had had several baths, his hair combed and kept, and was now dressed decently like a respectable man. The thought processes worked well on her, and if his knees didn't feel so weak from fear and the situation wasn't so dire, he would have made a pleasant little comment, that may well landed him unconscious.  
  
"Do I know you, sir?" she asked congenially.  
  
The older man's face remained in a frozen grin. After too long of a time. he said, "No parle ingles!" Then he bent over and gasped in pain, as Ragetti conveniently punched him from below.  
  
Elizabeth's eyes narrowed at him and his peculiar actions. "Pardon?" she asked.  
  
Panting out his pain, he moved from behind the counter. "We be closed, madam. The baker is out on business, and we ran out of dinner rolls and such not."  
  
She watched him with vast suspicion. "The Commodore suggested this bakery and suggested I buy the scones."  
  
Sweat stung Pintel's blearing eyes, as he looked back to the counter for support. A tray of danishes appeared on top of it. He hurried his way back to behind the counter, tripped over Ragetti and flipped the danishes off the counter and sent them flying onto the floor to the dog's great delight. Making a rather crude curse and calling his obstacle several rather nasty inappropriate things in mixed company, he pushed him violently out of the way and squished him in the corner. He then pulled the scones out from the counter. He dumped them unceremoniously onto the wrapping paper, tied them, and shoved them in her hands.  
  
"Don't worry 'bout the price. They be free since the commodore sent ye," he quickly added, as he hurriedly ushered the women out the door. He slammed the door shut and bolted it after them. Leaning up against it, he grasped his chest and panted.  
  
Ragetti stood up from his hiding place. All color ran from his face. "What are we gonna do, 'Enry? She be the commodore's woman and all! She knows we be pirates!"  
  
The other man slunked his way back to the counter. "There ain't nuttin' fer it. We gotta make a run fer it."  
  
"But . . . uh . . but it be daylight out and all, and we'd be seen, and what 'bouts the bakery and Mrs. Marita and 'Stella?" Ragetti sputtered.  
  
"If we are caught 'ere, and that is what will be if that woman reports us to her lover boy, then we will be hung, and likely Mrs. Marita and the littl' one will be joinin' us on the scaffold."  
  
The younger pirate nodded grimly. He bit his lower lip and held back the tears. He had to accept his fate. "What ya got planned?"  
  
"Well, they are lookin' fer two men, right?"  
  
"Uh . . .?"  
A strange sparkle lit Pintel's eye, and a sagely smile crossed his lips. Between the anxiety over the pending execution and leaving his surrogate family, Ragetti felt a new kind of fear creeping up his back. It was always a harrowing experience when his friend came up with one of his bright ideas. "Well, what if we ain't no men?" Pintel exclaimed, and Ragetti felt those tea biscuits and ale come up for argument. He obediently followed the shorter man up to Marita's rooms.  
  
A half an hour later, the tall man found himself tightening Pintel's prize corset around his friend's not exactly thin bulk. Marita's long sleeved dress didn't exactly fit the thinner man well, because of the lack of curves in all the right places, and the seams were precariously stretched to the point of breaking. Both men acquired proper cleavage by stuffing their shirts down the front of the dress, which made the clothing even more strained. Marita was a woman, but she was not that top heavy.  
  
Pintel spotted the music box on the dresser and went to investigate it. He looked the box over curiously, opened it, and only puzzled briefly the emission of the trickling music before he dumped the contents into his handbag. Ragetti, meanwhile looked at himself in the mirror and fiddled with his blonde hair to get it to sit down and behave like a proper lady. He espied a golden crucifix on the corner of the mirror frame He paused a moment before he wrapped his finger cautiously around the chain, as if he thought that the pendant might burn him. The cool metal lay in his hand for a few moments, as he thought of the woman that it properly belonged to. He then messed about with the clasp, and managed to undo it and get it done again around his neck.  
  
"Ach! Come on, pretty boy. We ain't got all day fer you to priss yerself," Pintel remarked, "And ye ain't all that with that dead furry caterpillar on yer lip!"  
  
Ragetti turned to him and planned to stick his tongue out, but Pintel had found Marita's stash of money. The stout little pirate moved to pour the contents into his bag, but his partner's swift hand stopped him.  
  
"No," he insisted. Pintel glared daggers at him. "We can get enough money off the streets to make it. We are a pair of pick pockets, after all."  
  
The older man sighed and threw down the money. He picked up a bonnet and tugged it on around his ears. Ragetti happily tied a big floppy bow for him. Picking up a fine, and exceptionally pretty smelling perfume from Marita's vanity, he sprayed Pintel generously with it. The older pirate glowered at him, snatched the bottle away from him, and firmly put it back where it belonged.   
  
"Come on, you brainless lump!" Pintel growled.  
  
The younger man only shrugged, picked up his fan and parasol and followed his friend out. They went downstairs to the back door. Lucy came up to the older pirate with sad eyes and sniffed at him. The dog pulled back and suddenly sneezed. The stout little pirate frowned and shot a rather nasty look to the perpetrator of the scenting. Ragetti only grinned. Pintel squatted down to look his second best friend in the eye. (He wasn't sure if second place belonged to Lucy or it belonged to Ragetti. Rum won first place in his heart.) Not being as young as he used to be, nor as cursed as he used to be, he ended up on the floor on his butt. So, he sat there in a non ladylike way to talk to the dog.  
  
"Now, listen 'ere, ye useless fleabag. Ye can't be goin' with us. The missus needs ye 'ere to protect them. Ye 'ear me?"  
  
The dog whine pitifully and gave the man a big slobbery lick on the face. He slunked away sorrowfully.  
  
"Gee! I di'n't know ya knew 'ow to speak dog, 'Enry!"  
  
"Bah! 'Course I know 'ow to speak dog! I 'ave been married longer than I've known ye, boy!"  
  
Ragetti gave that famous blank look and followed his companion out the back door.

PS, for you folks who love Marita. This isn't the end of her. It will be a few chapters before she comes in again, and she is none too happy with the fellows!


	22. Chapter 22: Some Like It Hotter

A/N: My thanks go out to my loyal readers. Again, I am late. On time means that I post this on Saturday morning. Oh well, I got a four day weekend out of this, and I felt lazy! Anyway, next weeks installment might well be late for several reasons. One of which is I have to work Thursday and Friday night, and the other reason is I have to deal with Jack in that chapter, and I am scared witless. Oh well, I'm not as scared as the heroes are about it!

Thanks to Bill for the title of this chapter. And the person who was looking for the return of Mullroy and Murtogg, they are back. I hope I have the right name with the right fellow. They weren't as separatable as Pintel and Ragetti.

Chapter 22: Some Like It Hotter  
  
The streets of Port Royal were teaming with people going to and fro on their everyday business. Ragetti swallowed hard (and it got stuck somewhere on his ribs due to the corset), and he felt his knees trembling and weak (but that could have been due to the lack of oxygen because of the before mentioned corset). When he and Pintel had been disguised as women before, there had been numerous differences. There were less people about. (Granted those, that were there were around, were all armed and ready to blast rather sizeable holes into anything remotely resembling a pirate.) It was dark and there was quite a bit of distance between them and the ones they were trying to fool. Finally they were undead. This had two major advantages in and of itself: 1) They were a tad bit harder to kill than the average human being, and 2) They didn't have to breath, so the corset bit wasn't quite so constricting. Pintel unfolded his fan and placed it over his face to hide his manly features and his five o'clock shadow. He would have taken a deep breath before plunging into the crowd of people, but his seams were already stretched to their limits, and the corset made that firm statement of "absolutely not".  
  
The unwomen made their way through the crowds of people as if there was nothing unusual about them. No one seemed to notice anything amiss. Pintel actually got goosed a couple of times. Some men were really desperate. The older pirate's unusual shade of blue nor the younger man's manly boots drew any attention. The fact that Ragetti's dress was a good half a foot above his ankles caught no one's eye as being out of the ordinary. Fortunately, his skirts were long enough to hide his trousers tucked in them and the knife in his right boot. Of course, if the people didn't get the idea that these were a pair of strange women without the other clues, then trousers and a knife stuck in a man boot wouldn't have phased them either. The taller man didn't exactly have that ladylike swagger, that Pintel seemed to have mastered. The walk came natural to the older rogue due to the fact that he couldn't breath. Ragetti was too used to going barefooted, and he found the boots a tad bit clumsy to say the least, but to go barefooted and walk properly would have drawn more attention than to wear boots and stumble over any irregularity in the streets. Besides, he rather smelt of ale. So, to make up for his non-feminine mannerisms, the one eyed pirate put on that high pitched voice and did his best at girlie chatter to his partner. Pintel looked up at him and narrowed his eyes in a most threatening way when the younger asked him about aligning the seams of his stockings, that he wasn't wearing. The taller man gave him a clueless smile as a response to the glare.  
  
Before the round little pirate could appropriately hit him, he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. His insides froze and he turned quite pale, but then again, this could all be because of the tightness of the corset. Ragetti's reaction was quite the same, and his corset wasn't quite as tight. Not to mention, his bladder happily added a complaint to go with it. Oh well, he found something that the corset was good for, as he felt a similar hand on his shoulder. Pintel turned an alarming shade of purple, but then again that could have been the result of the lack of air to his lungs. Ragetti mechanically and stiffly turned about and swiveled his good eye to look at the owner of the hand. His wooden eye just stayed in place. (It was sulking, because Marita had put an end to most of its wandering mischief.) At his side, he found that achingly familiar equally tall with shocking red hair red coat bayonet bearing naval soldier known as Murtogg.  
  
Not exactly winning the prize for intelligence, the red haired guard smiled brightly at his potential date for Saturday night's ball at the governor's mansion. He did not notice that only one eye moved on this lovely to take in his appearance, and he could not read the fear written in that one eye and all over his victim's face. Foreign language was not his forte. He had a hard enough time with English. He did not notice the dress was straining at the seams, nor did he notice that only one golden earring was hanging from his lady's right ear without its match in the left ear. The lack of color in his beauty's complexion was considered quite fashionable, even though Ragetti was obviously tanned from all of his outside chores. The nagging familiarity that the woman had to soldier's miniscule mind was pushed aside for the spurring on of true love and the desperate need for a date.  
  
Mullroy was having much the same problem. He found the lady before him a delicate beauty beyond words right down to her precarious seams, stringy blonde hair and equally yellow somewhat bloodshot eyes. The mingled smells of fine overused perfume, ale, and dog dander only served to entice his senses further. He was especially attracted to that vastly unproportionately large bust size, that was caused by the combination of the corset squeezing everything up and out and the hidden shirt stuffed there for good measure. The guard did properly appreciate a woman with a bit of meat on her bones, and Pintel more than qualified there. The absolute terror written in the pirate's eyes was mistaken for equal admiration. Mullroy, unfortunately, copied Murtogg's homework in military school.  
  
"Might we be able to 'elp ya fine ladies out in some way?" Murtogg asked his tall lady, who stood a little better than an inch taller than him, in his most gentlemanly way. He liked a woman he could see.  
  
Ragetti let out a nervous trickle of laughter, and he pulled his knees in tight, as he replied, "Uh . . ." intelligently.  
  
Fanning himself harder, the older pirate tried to put on a more feminine voice, and it came out like a screech of a cat in heat. "We be 'eadin' fer the docks, good sirs," he replied, as he batted his eyes at his former captor in an attempt to be flirtatious.   
  
Mullroy was struck from the bottom of his heart to the tips of his curling toes. She liked him! "The docks are no place for ladies like yerselves. There are many unsavory ungentlemanly like knaves 'bout on the docks. No tellin' what those less than savory sailors would do to ladies such as yer lovely selves."  
  
"Oh!" Ragetti cried out sweetly, that sounded more like distress. Of course, this could have to do with some part of that lady undergarments, that he was wearing, popped and was now poking him painfully.  
  
"We be goin' to see 'is . . . I mean, 'er brother," Pintel added, ignoring his companion's distress, "'E sails in today."  
  
"Well, the least we can do is to escort ya there, and with us fine outstanding soldiers, no unsavories will dare to approach ya. It be our civil duty and all, ya know. Right, Murtogg?" the stout naval officer announced.  
  
"Right ya are!" agreed the red haired man full heartedly with hopeful sparks in his eyes..  
  
The pirates turned paler, but it was unsure if this was due to the naval officer's offer or the creeping sound of ripping material going down Ragetti's backside.  
  
"Thank ye, kind sirs," the rotund pirate replied promptly, "but I be certain we can manage on our own, and we be 'atin' to take ye from yer real duties."  
  
"Oh, but we insist," Mullroy added with a winning wink. He hadn't caught a girl this good since Agatha the old wash woman, and she had whiskers, too. He took hold of Pintel's sweating arm into the crook of his arm. The older pirate felt his tea biscuits and ale come up for discussion again.  
  
Murtogg took off his hat and made an elegant bow to his blonde beauty and offered his arm. Any color that was left to the one eyed man's face promptly fled. He made to bow in return to his escort, then changed to a curtsy midway through. He felt the rip run up his back, and he stood up promptly, but the lanky officer noticed nothing but her absolute beauty, as he took his damsel's arm. Some people paused to look at the indecent exposure and whisper gossip, as the two happy pairs headed for their destination.  
  
The guards made cheery small talk, and with a mutual agreement, Murtogg perked up the courage to ask, "'Ey, would you lovely ladies be 'avin' boyfriends about?" he asked, as he shuffled his feet.  
  
Ragetti turned a whiter shade of pale and delivered that fine line of "Uh . . ." yet again.  
  
Pintel swallowed down his tea time snack and popped three straps of his corset.  
  
"We are needin' dates fer Saturday night and all," the red haired guard announced nervously.  
  
"It be a fine ball indeed. It be at the governor's mansion. 'E be celebrating 'is daughter's comin' weddin' and all. A fine young man that blacksmith be," the stockier soldier added.  
  
"And we'd be most honored if ya could . . . would go as our dates," the other concluded.  
  
The two ladies in disguise looked at each other with mutual wide staring eyes. Ragetti was most grateful for the work that Marita had done on that wooden orb of his, so that it would not pop out at this inopportune moment. The stout little "miss" swallowed his pride, popped another strap, and looked squinty eyed at the royal navy's finest.  
  
"Me and me sister 'ere, we will 'ave to consider this matter in private, if ye don't mind," he replied.  
  
"And I really gotta to pee!" Ragetti added.  
  
Pintel shot him a dagger glare, but the line completely passed the lovestruck soldiers by. They nodded heads together, and the stockier guard came forward. He gently took the older pirate's big rough hand and held it to his heart for a moment.  
  
"A lady is entitled to 'ave 'er time to 'erself. Just don't take too long. Me 'eart can't bear to be without ya too long."  
  
"Uh," Pintel replied uncharacteristically. He had been around Ragetti far too long. He snatched his insulted hand away.  
  
The thin officer took his counterpart's hand and gently kissed it. Ragetti could no longer honestly say that he had to go, as the puddle formed at his feet. The "ladies" backed away from their Prince Charmings, and weaved their way in and out of the dock people, until they reached a pier. The younger man wiped his contaminated hand off on his partner's dress. The older man narrowed his eyes at him, and if looks could kill, Pintel would be finishing out this story on his own.  
  
Ignoring the more seasoned man's look, Ragetti held up Murtogg's purse with a smile of pride. "At least the encounter turned out profitable!" he remarked happily.  
  
Pintel nodded and held up Mullroy's purse and two pocket watches.  
  
They both looked around to see if anyone was watching. The coast being clear, Pintel added the guard's cash to his purse. Ragetti started counting the contents of his take, as his partner stared out at the teaming people on the docks. A shadow caught the taller pirate's attention, and he lost count of his stolen money as he looked up at the distraction. He swallowed hard and this time the lump passed by the corset. His eyes grew wide, and he felt his innards freeze solid, as the rest of the coins fell to the water below. He grabbed his smaller friend's shoulder. Irritation rising in him, Pintel turned swiftly on his companion. Although proudly illiterate, he could not mistake the anxiety written on his friend's face nor the trembling unsteady hand that pointed across the water. On a piece of land unto itself was an arch, where hung three rather fresh corpses with the warning "Pirate Be Warned" that Jack Sparrow had seen on his original arrival to the port city. Ragetti bit his lower lip and all moisture fled from his mouth, as he recognized the swaying once able bodies, waltzing their morbid dance in the breeze.   
  
"'Enry, it be Bo'sun, Grapple, and Ketchum," he muttered somberly. Pain washed over him, as he lowered his arm, as he stared fixedly out at the now wasted decaying bodies of his crewmates. "That ain't no way fer a pirate to die."  
  
"Bah! It be only Bo'sun, Grapple, and Ketchum. They ne'er turned us a good 'and," he growled, as he quelled his dread. This was no time for sympathy.  
  
"It could 'ave been us!" the younger remarked, as he choked, as the hysteria rose.  
  
"Well, we can't be dwellin' on their fate or what could 'ave been, else we be joinin' 'em."  
  
The older pirate pulled his friend back into the crowd of people to find their escape.  
  
Two hours later, Mullroy and Murtogg still stood in place waiting for their ladies to return. Women will be women, and they needed time to make up their minds, even if it took a long time. The stockier guard moved to take out his watch from his waistcoat, but it was not there. He gave Murtogg a puzzled hurt look. The red haired soldier found that not only was his watch missing, but so was his purse.  
  
"I don't think those were proper misses," he remarked.  
  
Mullroy hit him.


	23. Chapter 23: Shore to Ship to Ship

A/N: Okay, I'm finally back! It has been a messy three weeks, and my days off and sleep schedule have all been messed up. Argh! But I think things are getting back to normal . . . maybe! Oh well, this is a transistional chapter, that caused more trouble than it should have. The next chapter, I hope, will be easier to write. It will be mostly dialogue, but I hope it will be fun for you Jack lovers!!

Interesting little side note fore you, while I typed this out, I was playing the new Edguy CD, and there is a song on it called "Rise of the Morning Glory". Gee, I knew I got the name of the ship from somewhere!! And other musical reference, I have in mind of the song by Chris DeBugh "Ship to Shore" for the title. Diverse musical interest, mind you.

Anyway, text note for you, although I feel that Will and Elizabeth will make a lovely couple and will get married, Pintel and Ragetti don't know that. As far as they know, Elizabeth and the Commodore are a pair.

And lastly, thanks to all my lovely readers, who are still hanging in there with me, PeiPei, Blacklabel, Catgirluh, Piratedragon, and Ashlyns. You all have made this story reach its goal number review and kept it very much alive. Thank you!

Chapter 23: Shore to Ship to Ship . . .

Being the experts in the way of such matters, Pintel and Ragetti made good their escape from the outstanding soldiers of the Royal Navy. After all, the two pirates had spent a vast amounts of time in running away from the law, irate victims of their pick pocketing, fellow crewmates, each other, and irate women. Well, the latter applied mostly to the elder pirate, since after 10 years plus of waiting, Mrs. Pintel was most likely going to introduce the more experienced man to asundrious kitchen utensils in their improper use, if he ever managed to get back home. Mullroy and Murtogg never had any of these kinds of experiences with women, although they equaled, if not bettered their counterparts, in being a pair of dunder heads.

The two delinquent pirates managed to separate and find each other again at a conveniently unguarded shipment of sugar. Such activities said that they thought too much alike, and they each needed to settle down with their proper woman for awhile. The captain of the Morning Glory, a stout grizzly little man of many years experience (and possibly too many of them spent at sea) was having a little discussion with the owner of the sugar shipment, who was a man tall and broad with darkened skin from his own work in the fields with his workers, which was quite uncommon for a man of his status. Well, the word discussion might have been too mild of a word for it, it was more of a heated argument, that promised the possibility of some blood shed and one less sully sea captain. The smaller man blustered and used some of the most colorful language, that did not quite add to Pintel's vocabulary of such things.  
The sailors of the Morning Glory knew their captain all too well, and they knew he was on a roll. It was likely to be a good many hours before things were settled, since the Captain's face had only worked its way up to red instead of purple, and he was still fully clothed and jumping up and down. So, the sailors decided to nip off for some lunch and a couple of pints, and some might even book a room for the night.

No one, therefore, was about to notice two haggard looking ladies approaching the cart of sugar, nor did anyone notice that one of them, with an amazingly revealing rip crawling up the back, whipped out a knife from under the skirts and significantly sweetened the dock with two full bags of sugar. The merchant and the captain noticed nothing, as the captain began describing some interesting ancestry for the other. The merchant only stood by with his massive arms crossed and had thoughts of dismemberment for the man before him. The two pirates wiggled into a now empty bag each and waited. They had been in tighter spots and certainly more compromising positions before. Given the heat of the argument and the nature of the fine captain, the pirates felt at home and soon fell asleep by the time the shipment was moved. It was put in the hold of the moderate size ship called the Morning Glory with other interesting food goods and drink goods and other goodie goods. Neither Pintel nor Ragetti knew where the ship was headed, but since when did they ever know where they were going?  
When the two fugitives were certain that all shipping and handling was done and finally woke up, they crawled out of their respective sacks. Ragetti shook his head to free up all the lingering sugar in his hair, and therefore covering Pintel with most of the excess. The older man frowned at him and gave him a fierce glare, that would have done Marita proud. The younger man produced a nervous grin and brushed his partner down. He paused with the clinging sugar on his hand. Having the sweet tooth that he did have, he couldn't resist licking the sugar from his fingers.

"You're sweet, 'Enry," he remarked happily.

Pintel turned on him and smacked him hard up side the head with his purse. Lucky for the one-eyed man, the bakery mistress had done an excellent job on the repair of that false eye, and it stayed put during the rattling of the loose nuts and bolts that Ragetti had upstairs. Unfortunately, though for Pintel, his reprimand was cut short because of that terrible habit called breathing and the constricting confines of that corset. So, he had to stop and take in a deep body breath, that popped the last straps of said corset.

Ragetti happily stripped down in a more conventional way to his manly clothes. Then he collected the tattered remains of the two dresses. The older pirate turned to him with another one of those disgusted looks and shook his head in disbelief. Nevermind, he kept a corset in the closet at the bakery.

"Whatcha doin' that fer?" he growled, "They ain't worth nuttin' of value." he suddenly straightened up and squinted his right eye at his taller partner, as a terrible thought struck him,

"Ye ain't plannin' to be a lady 'gain? Ye ain't enjoyin' this bit, are ye?"

The younger man paused in his work and looked at his surly friend. His face flushed a deep red. "I be wantin' to pay Mrs. Marita back fer all 'er trouble with us when we get back to Port Royal."

"When?!" the other exclaimed exasperated, "When! Boy, whatcha talkin' 'bout! We be wanted men there, and that Commodore feller, he be knowin' us and all now 'cause of that littl' shoot out, and he be slinkin' 'bouts all eager and the like to be 'angin' 'imself a pair of scallywags that took off with 'is girl!"

"We'll be back," Ragetti remarked with that big goofy grin of his, as he returned to stuffing the dresses in the sack.

Pintel grabbed his friends wrist to halt his progress. "Tony, me boy, ye be forgettin' that big rule of piracy. Ye take stuff, ye keep the stuff, and ye don't return nuttin' fer it. If ye pay fer it, then ye ain't be stealin' it!"

"Aye, I ain't that daft! I just don't be thinkin' that stealin' from Mrs. Marita be the proper way to be winnin' 'er 'eart. So, I be meanin' to be payin' 'er back some'ow."

"And lose yer bloody 'ead to St. Peter in the process!" the older man added dramatically making a shot of a gun to the head with his hand.

Ragetti only shrugged. The other man tried to bore holes in him with the vicious glare of his eyes, but he was quite effectively ignored, as the man finished his task and took in their surroundings. Having a mind, that focused on very few things in life and, having his priorities straight, it did not take long for the pirate to find several barrels of ale in the cargo. It took even less time for him and his partner to happily tap into one these inviting barrels and promptly drain it. Within a few hours, the two stowaways found themselves in a drunken slumber. Oh well, being unconscious was one their best known states, and it kept most people out of trouble. Pintel and Ragetti were not most people, and trouble was attracted to them almost as well as the fleas.  
Unfortunately, the dynamic duo were not known for staying out of compromising situations, and they were quite capable of finding trouble in their sleep. So, when they woke from their little nap, aside from not having the proper hangover that came with the stronger beverages that they usually drank, they had an aching feeling that not all things were right on the great blue sea. Ragetti was the first to notice the change, because Pintel's sack, the ornery pirate included, was unceremoniously thrown on top of the taller thinner pirate's sack. The older man was no laugh to be under. Not only was the stout little man a bit of a weight to carry, but he had some of the most lecherous tendencies while he slept. With a wiggle and a squirm, the younger man released himself from the crushing clutching experience and getting a sizeable booted foot in the mouth in the process.

The one eyed pirate stood up and scratched his head. The newly residential fleas fled in terror. Something was just not right. Nevermind the fact that things were a bit rearranged, there was more of it, and the ship's decor was radically different.

"'Enry," he said as he braved the approach of those grasping claws again. The elder giggled and muttered a name that sounded like Candy, or maybe it was Mandy. The taller man took a hold of his friend's shoulder, and he received a rather overly passionate kiss for his effort. Pintel woke up wide eyed, and the two pulled away sputtering and spewing.

"What do ye think yer at, boy!!" he cried out, as he spat.

"'Enry," he answered, as he tried to wipe the harrowing experience from his mind and his mouth,

"I think we be on a different ship, but it seems kind of familiar." "Bah!" complained the other,

"'Course, it be familiar. It be the same bloody ship we boarded. 'Ow ye think we got on 'nother ship in our sleep? Twinkle yer toes and 'ere we are? Ye ain't no witch! Ye ain't got no black cat nor warts!"

"I don't know! It just ain't the Morning Glory no more. It moves differently," the blonde complained.

"Boy! Ye ain't been on the same ship as me fer quite some time now!"

"'Enry, not like that! Something 'as 'appened!"

Pintel stood up straight and crossed his arms."And, pray tell, where are we, ole Great Wise Master?"

Ragetti shrugged as he looked over the vast collection of scattered supplies, that was now thrown about in a haphazard sort of way throughout the hold. Amongst the crates of food was scattered treasure, and the two pirates followed their natural instinct and stuffed as much gold and jewels down their pants. Comfort was not an issue when gold was involved, and besides, they had just spent several hours in corsets, so they were used to discomfort. Not only was there gold, but there were other fine beverages other than the weak ale, that the men previously tapped into. Pintel was quick to find several barrels of the finest and most potent rum that the Caribbean could offer. Being a pair, who were of the firm belief of drink when in doubt and whenever possible, they were not about to pass up this special opportunity. Oh well, they had a lot of partying to make up for.

Being ones not to take anything in moderation, not to mention not knowing the meaning of such big words, the pair soon drained another barrel of a more mind numbing alcoholic beverage and soon found themselves in that blissful state of unconsciousness yet again. Being sprawled out in a drunken stupor on a ship of unknown origins, where one was not exactly invited was not the brightest of ideas, but, then again, Pintel and Ragetti were not noted for their brightness.  
So, when the sailors of this particular vessel came down to the newly acquired swag, they found a pair of drunken surprises with heavy britches in each other's loving embrace. Pintel and Ragetti not only needed separate sleeping quarters, but they really needed to get back to their respective women! Of course, being awakened with kicks, curses, slaps, and threats to their manhoods, then being dragged across the hold and up the steps in a not very nice way to see the captain of the esteemed vessel was normal procedure for the pair of miscreants. Neither of the stowaways could shake the feeling that the ship seemed all too familiar. The ominous creak of the black timber and the rocking of the ship on the ocean created such a feeling of deja vu, that even Pintel was getting that feeling that he might know this ship, despite the fact that his French really sucked, and he thought that deja vu was an odd color of blue. The message he was receiving in his liquor soaked brain was none too positive.

When the pirates were pulled up and thrown on deck of the black ship with the terribly familiar (but in one hell of a lot better condition and repair) black sails, Ragetti felt a nasty knot in his stomach, and Pintel felt the sharks nibbling at his bones. The taller pirate forced a crooked smile, as the image of a small dark man in a long dirty coat and a tri-cornered hat stood at the wheel with a dark skinned woman. The sunlight glinted off of his golden teeth and the odd assortment of things tied in his hair. The shrill voice of the woman called him something quite uncomplimentary, that should never be uttered by a woman, and a loud crack of a hand to flesh was heard. The man soon found himself tumbling down the steps to the main deck. He would have more than happily continued his little spat, but a crewman brought the captain's attention to the two captives. He pulled himself up, made several interesting, if not downright crude gestures to the woman at the wheel. She only smirked at the promise and threat made therein. He, then, brushed himself down, threw out his dreadlocks, and with a huff he turned around to approach the stowaways. Ragetti pulled his legs in tight as his bladder made a complaint.

"Uh!" he commented, "Hi, Jack!" he cried out brightly.

"It's Captain Sparrow!" he corrected. The stern look he gave could melt an iceberg, but then again due to their recent woman experience, Pintel and Ragetti found this nothing in comparison. Murder and revenge were written in the captain's dark eyes, but Pintel was blissfully still illiterate, and Ragetti wasn't that far advance in his reading.

The older man held up his hands and announced with a rotten tooth grin, "Parley!"

A/N: Oh my! What a mess this new system is on FF! This file did not transfer exactly right, and I hope that I have divided out all the paragraphs correctly. Sorry, if I missed one.


	24. Chapter 24:Parley!

A/N: This new way of uploading is making sure I do another edit on the chapter! It is a pain to go down and separate out all the quotes again! Oh well! Anyway, sorry that it is taking two weeks between chapters. My day offs have changed and I am trying to get used to Sunday and Thursday off instead of Thursday and Friday. The house is being painted, and finally, the computer is being weird. I am having problems with my internet server program. So, I get booted off a little bit often. So, for those of you I owe readings to, I'm trying to get there.

My thanks goes out to my loyal readers PeiPei, Catgirlutah, Ashlyns, Piratedragon, and anyone I may have forgotten. I dearly appreciate your support. It is keeping me going!

Final note. Ankles are the sexy bit on a man's body! Okay, if you have read my other fictions, the ankle fetish is back!!

Chapter 24: Parley!  
"Squawk! Walk the plank, you filthy swabs!" cried out the bright blue and gold macaw parrot, sitting proudly on the tall older man's shoulder.

Captain Jack Sparrow narrowed his dark kohl rimmed eyes and turned his attentions from the pair of mutinous miscreants of his previous not so loyal crew. His reprimand turned to his silent mute crewmember known simply as Mr. Cotton. The pirate captain raised his eyebrows, as he scrutinized the overly vocal tropical bird. "Ye been a part of me crew too damn long when that bloody bird starts making sense!"

"Squawk!" complained the colorful bird colorfully, as it flapped its wings in irritation.

The illustrious pirate glared up at the bird. "It be me ship, and I'll be givin' the orders 'round 'ere, savy?" he growled at the bird. The crew stifled any comment or laughter about their captain making conversation or argument with a parrot. They had seen him argue, quite effectively, with inanimate objects.

The pirate captain turned his attention back to the bigger bird brains on board. He received a pair of idiotic grins for his efforts. He swaggered his pace around the rather nervous prisoners. The sun glittered off of his many and asundrious golden rings on his fingers and the golden teeth in his mouth, as he stroked his wisp of a beard in deep thought about the two scoundrels before him. A wicked mischievous glint illuminated his eyes. That boisterous little captain of that bloody merchant ship was just too much trouble, and Jack was seriously wondering if all the junk lifted from his hold was worth the trouble. He shrugged with self satisfaction. He had to admit stringing the outspoken little man up the flag mast by his suspenders was quite entertaining, especially since he continued his threats of retaliation and much pain upon these pirates and all pirates from his lofty position with flaring arms and legs. Jack was still trying to figure out the most interesting lineage that the captain gave him and some of his crewmembers. Somehow he couldn't imagine one of Marty's parents being a woodland skunk, much less mating with a codfish, with a squid thrown in there for good measure. Oh well, regardless, he never dreamt that the hold of the Morning Glory would hold such unpleasant surprises.

Under Jack's scrutiny, Ragetti tried to cross his legs and grin stupidly. The effort turned out to be more of the crossing of the ankles due to the over bulky load of treasure in his britches, and his forced grin turned out to be more of a tragic grimace. Pintel managed to beam quite convincingly, and he looked more drunken than usual. A mild shade of red crossed his face as a few trickles of gold fell from his pants to the deck of the ship.

A tall older man with grey mutton chops came up to the captain and said, "It be bad luck to 'ave cursed pirate on board, mark me words."

"'Ey, we ain't cursed no more!" the small squat captive pirate complained.

"Yeah," agreed the other, "We've ain't been cursed for nearly a day now!" "Quiet, Gibbs. I will make me own decision of their fate," the captain of the Black Pearl replied. Looking intensely thoughtful, he announced, "Walking the plank does have some real possibilities fer a pair of traitorous twits such as yerselves." He stood back and crossed his arms, "But then again," he continued, "I don't think the sharks would forgive me fer dumpin' such trash in their waters, and I don't take suggestions from a bird!"

The tall blonde pirate swallowed down the sizeable lump in his throat and held back the need to choke. The smaller stouter pirate of the two collected his cool to respond to their once and hopefully future captain. "Now, now, Jack, ye wouldn't be wantin' to be so 'asty in such decisions, now would ye, me boy." Anger flared in the dark pirate's eyes. "It's Captain Sparrow!" he corrected.

"Oh yes, right ye are, Captain Sparrow," Pintel immediately corrected with a prompt crisp salute. With the lack of a grip, his pants began to make their descent.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Drop yer drawers, the both of ye!" he ordered.

Ragetti turned pale, as shock crossed his face. "Captain, sir! I di'n't know ye were that way!"

The look that Jack gave them may have out done any look the bakery mistress ever gave. Pintel hit Ragetti in the midsection, making the taller man double over and drop his gold filled britches. The older man relented his stash in a more voluntary way. Several of Sparrow's present crew scurried about and collected their rightfully stolen property like a bunch of rats and retuned it to the hold. The enigmatic pirate captain hooked his fingers into the gold chain and crucifix about the taller captive's neck.

Ragetti stood upright, and his reaction was instantaneous. He grabbed the pirate captain's wrist with a grip that the man did not think possible of this meek creature. The blonde replied with a sternness that Sparrow never knew the spineless man to have. "Not yours."

A moment's shiver ran down Sparrow's back from the strangeness, but he quickly shrugged it off to be his confident self again. He let the chain fall back to its present owner and held up his hand. "A littl' late fer ye to be askin' fer forgiveness from God, don't ye think," he remonstrated with his normal gilded tongue.

The one eyed man shrugged and gave that goofy smile that his former captain was used to. "I guess so. It be more of a reminder of someone special, and then again, maybe God will keep me out of so much trouble this time."

Jack nodded and let it be. Somehow he doubted that the wiry little captain of the Morning Glory could touch such a holy object much less transport it, but then again the gutless man before him had spent 10 years cursed, undead, and doing ungodly things. Oh well, on to the more prudent things at hand.

"Now, tell me, you two lousy pusillanimous imbeciles, why should I accommodate a pair of disloyal mutinous second rate lummoxes aboard me fine vessel . . . again!"

"Speak English, man!" complained Pintel, as he screwed up his brow in concentration of those words that contained more than four letters each."

Jack blew out an exasperated breath and repeated his thought in more plain terms. "Tell me why I shouldn't 'ave ye two land lobsters stuffed and left to fry on some deserted god forsaken island? The two of ye were useless to me 'fore ye went off with Barbossa. I just kept the two of ye 'round 'cause not only did I feel sorry fer ye, but I was amazed at how two men could be such blunderin' boobs!"

"We 'ave our uses!" the older captive pointed out, "Ragetti, 'ere, 'e's been learnin' 'bouts those letter thingies."

"Uh!" replied the other, as he dropped his newly retrieved pants and looked up. He gave a deep blush. His reading skills weren't all that, and there was so much he didn't understand as of yet. Not to mention, he was in Anamaria's direct line of vision, and she was snickering about something and making a motion with her fingers to indicate small size. He pulled his pants up quickly.

Jack squinted his eyes at the one eyed numbskull, as the delinquent pirate struggled with tying his pants around his waist and entangling his long fingers in the process. He met Jack's withering stare and gave one of those blank expressions.

"Is this true?" inquired the exceptional pirate captain.

The tall blonde scratched his head, and the lice made many and various valid complaints. "Uh . . . well, . . . Mrs. Marita, she kinda . . . well . . . she were tryin' to teach me . . ., Captain . . . uh . . . sir."

Jack blew out another exasperated breath and grumbled, "Pretty soon it's going to be where any idiot can learn to read!"

"Uh . . . sorry, sir," he responded, as he looked down.

"And that makes you a dangerous asset. Nothin' more dangerous than knowledge in the hands of an idiot and a fool, especially a traitorous betrayin' blither as yerself!"

Ragetti's trembling lips moved, but no defensive words came out. Pintel pushed himself forward in friend's behalf. This was what he was good for. "'E can cook, too," he added, "Eve'y ship be needin' a good cook. Just be keepin' 'im 'way from them peppers, and ye will do just fine."

"Mrs. Marita said I did alright," the tall pirate added hopefully.

Captain Sparrow crossed his arms and eyed him over. "Like I would be foolish enough to trust a traitor in me kitchen, muchless cookin' me food!" he growled, "Ye be slippin' some arsenic in the stew and stealin' me ship 'gain."

The one eyed pirate stood up indignant and pulled at the hemming of his shirt. "I did burn the donuts a couple of time at the bakery, but that don't mean I like burnin' things and all, Captain, sir, but ne'er e'er did I once burn the stew, and 'sides, I be keepin' me mind on me work 'ere."

Looking up at the tall blonde dolt, Sparrow commented, "I guess ye be too stupid to be knowin' 'bout poisons and all." He turned his attentions to the rotund pirate. "And ya, ye littl' weasely rat, what good are ye, that I should spare the sharks indigestion?"

"I be 'Enry Eugene Pintel, pirate extraordinaire," bragged the little man, as he pulled at his collars with pride. The withering look that Jack gave him shot right over his head. Of course, most things went over his head. Although he had many and asundrious talents and many of them of an illegal nature, he added even more proudly, "I still ain't been branded fer me specialties like some other pirates we know." The smug smirk crossed his round face.

The scowl that the stout pirate received prompted Ragetti to add, "And ye always need someone to swab the deck!"

Jack looked the two of them up and down and side to side. Ragetti produced that ineffective innocent look with the rotten tooth grin and the sparkle in his one good eye. Sparkles did not sit well with the wooden orb. It was too close to sparks for its comfort. Pintel put on his best poker face, that made him look amazingly like a trout, as the pirate captain paced around them and stroked that wisp of his beard thoughtfully.

"Ye betrayed me once. Why should I be givin' ye a second chance to be stabbin' me in the back?" he demanded.

"Jack, me boy," started Pintel. The murderous glare hit its target and made the older man back down with an intimidated grin. "Captain Sparrow, sir," he immediately corrected, "Ya know the pirate code. The bigger badder pirate, 'o be wantin' the ship wins. Barbossa were a lot bigger and a 'ell of a lot badder than ye e'er were, and 'o are we to argue with the code."

"Not to mention with Barbossa," Ragetti added logically.

Captain Sparrow frowned. "And I'm suppose to be takin' ye back after that?"

Ragetti looked at Pintel in utter confusion. The argument made sense to him. The two unwanted stowaways nodded to each other in agreement. They would just have to do what they always did in the hands of a angry pirate captain. They fell down on their hands and knees and each grabbed a hold one the enigmatic man's sexy ankles and cried and pleaded for mercy. Jack looked skyward asked God "Why me?" He pulled back to free himself from the gruesome death grip the two grown men had on his lower legs. A tinkle of a woman's laughter floated down from the bridge. Could the day get any worse, he wondered. He made a mental note to get even with Anamaria at the first opportune moment.

"Get off me, you lousy gits!" he ordered. They continued to appropriately grovel. "NOW!!"

"Yes! Yes! Anything, oh great and glorious master!" exclaimed Pintel.

Jack narrowed his eyes at them. Ragetti clasped his hands together and gave him the biggest pleading puppy eyed look possible, and even the wooden eye did its best to comply. The older pirate followed suit with similar results.

"Ya may stay aboard me fine Black Pearl under one condition . . ." "Yes! Yes! . . ." they exclaimed eagerly together.

"You've been cursed undead beings for 10 years, and that means that you are 10 years younger than you should be . . ." he started clearly.

"Huh?" remarked Ragetti, as he made an unsuccessful attempt to cross his eyes.

Pintel hit him. "It be what I told ye 'bouts, and I were right. We lost those years due to having been dead 'n' all. The dead don't age. So, ye owe me 10 gold!" he proudly pointed out to his rather dense partner.

"Geez! Captain Sparrow thought of that, too!" he observed happily.

Sparrow eyed them warily. "If you two filthy lowlifes be older than me still, I won't be sending you to visit Bootstraps at Davy Jones Locker. Savvy?"

"Ah, that be no problem, boy. I be 46 with the 10 years removed!" the older pirate announced proudly. "Ye were just a lad of a mere 23 'fore we were cursed."

"You will refrain from calling me 'boy' in the future! I am your captain, and you will treat me with respect," the captain growled in slow precise words.

"Aye, aye, captain, sir," Pintel relented.

"Ragetti?" Jack queried.

"Huh?" the tall pirate replied confused as ever.

"How old are you, twit? Or can you count that high?" the captain remarked sarcastically.

"Uh . . . I be 34, sir, . . . captain, . . ." he answered, as he shuffled from foot to foot.

"When's yer birthday?" the smaller man of authority demanded.

"May, captain, sir." Sparrow stomped his foot and swore a word that would have impressed Pintel, if he had not been so concerned with other matters of being terrified. Ragetti felt any and all contents of his stomach make a protesting rude argument, and his knees grew rather weak. The captain regained his composure and pulled his coat into place. With a sniff, he put on a most stern serious face and threw back his head. The breath caught in Ragetti's throat, as he imagined the sharks tearing him into nice little bite size morsels.

Sparrow sighed and blew out an exasperated breath. "You win. You can stay aboard me ship, but no funny business, ya hear!"

The two men jumped up and down and promenaded with joy. They embraced each other and proceeded to kiss each other on the cheeks. Suddenly realizing what they had done, they pulled back from each other, turned their backs to the other and spat. Jack raised his eyebrows at their show. He couldn't believe he just accepted these two back on his crew. He cleared his throat. The two new old crewmembers gave him their attention and stood crisply at attention before their fine leader.

"You will do the night shift watch duty with one of my trusted crewmembers on alternating nights from each other. The less you are together, the better. I will have no plotting between the two of you." He looked at the blank clueless faces of his audience. "You will swab the deck before breakfast each morning you are on this duty. You will do any minor everyday maintenance, that means what repairs to the ship that you are capable of . . ." The vacant stares prompted him to add, "I will find something. Ragetti, you may do some of the cooking. The first inedible meal you make, you will be sharing it with the sharks." He couldn't believe he was that desperate for a cook, but Cotton was one lousy cook. He figured it had to do with the man lacking a tongue and using the bird as a test taster.

"Yes, sir."

"You will get half a share of any plunder that you help us take. You will share this amongst the two of you as you see fit."

The two captive unwanted guests now unwanted crewmembers opened their mouths to protest the unfairness of this, but Jack raised a ringed finger. "It also be the pirate's code that any stowaways are to be thrown overboard."

The two of them clamped their mouths shut.


	25. Chapter 25: Crimes and Punishments

A/N: Gee! It has been more than a month since I have posted anything on this story. Sorry about that, folks. Things are getting back to some semblance of normality. The painters are gone (Yay!), The fish are no longer sick (Nor high!) (. . . don't ask questions you don't the answers to!), and my sinuses have finally drained out for the season. I have gotten a promotion at work, and I am now the supreme leader of the night (Shake with fear!) That means I am night leader. The bad thing is that I don't have two days off in a row, but with everything else calmed down and loads of ideas floating about in my crazy head, hopefully, I will be more consistent again.

Thanks to my wonderful reviewers, and I do appreciate that you all liked that bit about the crucifx in the last chapter. That was my favorite bit, too.

And a special note for you. This is the anniversity of my first original story called "Fall of Sagamore". So, a big yay for that one. I ain't telling you how old that one is, but it is over on the Fictionpress site.

And without further ado . . .

Chapter 25: Crimes and Punishments

Ragetti sat in and amongst an ever-growing pile of potato peels, that nearly hid the man, as he sat with his long legs sprawled out on the floor of the ship's galley. The two once traitorous, once cursed, and still quite miscreants had survived their first month back aboard the fine vessel known as the terror of the Caribbean . . . the Black Pearl . . . just nearly, that is, despite many and various mishaps. Jack found that Ragetti was better at doing the cooking than Mr. Cotton, but that wasn't saying much. This conclusion came to the illustrious captain even after that rather tasty stew, that the one eyed pirate was able to whip up. Nevermind that that rather colorful parrot had a rather nasty opinion in said stew. Oh well, it wasn't the first time the bird had something to say about what was being cooked, and since the bird wasn't plucked, stuffed, and served up as a Christmas roast bird, it was likely that there would be forth coming equally nasty statements to be had. At least Sparrow had yet to find any feathers in the stew, which would be a dead giveaway that not all was right with the dish before him, and he knew he was better off not knowing what Ragetti or Cotton or any of his other cooks had used as those secrets ingredients for the crew's meals.

Now, most sailors, legal or otherwise, would have found this peeling of potatoes a most tedious job indeed and quite a horrible punishment. At least, that was what Captain Sparrow figured on. Of course, most sailors are smarter than the average potato, but the infamous pirate captain forgot that Tony Ragetti did not fall into the category of most sailors or pirates . . . or men for that matter. Although Sparrow threatened to do unseemly things to the tall blonde man, that would guarantee that there would be no little Tony Ragettis running about in the future, then feed what remained to the ravenous sharks if he cooked up something inedible, Captain Jack Sparrow was, unfortunately, not known for his brutality and was rather good of heart, and his bark was far greater than his bite. So, Ragetti found himself peeling potatoes for serving up that famous Cayenne Pepper Pie for dessert the previous night instead of being served up himself. Jack was still trying to get the sting out of his mouth. Shock was all his when Gibbs and Marty asked for seconds! That was the last time he was ever going to eat with the crew! Of course, given how Ragetti felt about the chore at hand, as he happily whistled a cheery little barroom tune and basked in the memory of that time he caught a private performance of Marita's bathing ritual (Of course, it was unbeknownst to the bakery mistress, since he was still in possession of all his body parts, that he had on the day he met her.), this was no punishment at all. He smiled brightly as he shaved the spud and gave it a pleasant, but an equally, lecherous face as his own to go with its new look. Somehow, the punishment just wasn't get the point across that it was intended to do.

Ragetti had done many jobs worse than this one. Chopping the onions didn't do much for him. His eyes teared up so much, that the wooden one finally did its thing and popped out into the stew pot and wasn't found again until Anamaria nearly choked on it. The tall blonde's backside was still hurting from that incident, and his voice finally lowered to its proper pitch.

Pintel didn't fare quite as well. The older man, unlike his counterpart, was not fond of his job, but then again, Jack just could not assign him to getting drunk and womanizing. That was the captain's job, and Anamaria was not a good woman to womanize and get away without being hunched over and not walking properly for at least a week. Since no matter how much he threatened to do not so nice things to Ragetti, he could not get the one eyed man to climb to the crow's nest. Oh well, Jack wasn't exactly too sure the man had the appropriate sight for the job anyway. Being just a bit prejudice against the pirate being half blind (as well as having only half a brain, if that much), Captain Sparrow figured that there was nothing lost in his refusal, and besides, Ragetti did better below decks. Nevermind the fact that the one eyed man could see better than his smaller older partner with both of his eyes intact.

Jack was not too sure about appointing the position of lookout to Pintel. The man's sense of direction had not improved in his absence from the black ship, but Jack was well aware of this. Having had the Pintel experience before, he was able to make the appropriate adjustments. Besides, he wanted to give the two wayward pirates the jobs that no one else wanted. Unfortunately for Jack, after a couple of nights at his post, Pintel found he enjoyed the job. After all, he could get in his luggie practice on the crew below, and he got a spyglass to go with the job. Of course, using it to spy certain curves on the only female member of the crew was not the reason he was given it. Oh well, she usually left for below decks and off duty about an hour into his shift, so he had to return to business of good expectorating. Gibbs' often full flask helped in this chore, as Pintel patted it on his hip. The once cursed pirate would be sure to plant the flask back on the ex-navy man during his shift, then he would lift again in the night, when he came down for the call of nature. Gibbs had gotten just enough rum so that he would not recall whether he had emptied the flask himself or not.

As far as his performance of the job that was all worked out. If there was something to report, his garbled excited misreports would get translated down the line in a many and confused (and a very sorted) way until it got to a certain new member that Jack had recently picked up in Cancun named Zambrano. Somehow, this man was able to figure out what was coming at them from the lookout's interesting exclamations, cries, and strange noises along with tangled body motions.

This whole translation bit puzzled and somewhat frightened Jack. The captain was good at many and different languages and special codes whether spoken, written, or otherwise signaled, but this new bond between Zambrano and Pintel was more than he really wanted to know. Pintel, when he spotted something (that is to say, when he wasn't busy drinking Gibbs' ill gotten rum, doing luggie practice, or looking at dark skinned mermaids on board), he would hoot and holler and wave his arms around in a most dramatic way, nearly dislodging him from his lofty post high above. The crew would fetch the captain. After several unsuccessful attempts at translation, Jack would just throw up his hands and turn to Zambrano, who would smile and casually translate.

"Captain, he says there's a ship off the port bow flying Spanish colors. The rest of what he said, I don't feel you'd really be interested in hearing, especially with Anamaria right there."

Jack, knowing Pintel all too well, just narrowed his eyes at the messenger and then shrugged it off. He gave the orders to prepare for the encounter. This time, the ship's profits turned out worth his while. He left the feisty Spaniards in their underwear only and enough supplies to return to port. He would have been more generous to the senoritas on board, if one had not smacked him so hard, that his golden incisor came loose, and the other Spanish lady just hit gold, that said that the subsequent trip to Tortuga would be a dull and lonely one for him.

Wilson, one of the less grimy crewmembers of the Pearl was shot in the leg, but not by the enemy. Pintel, remembering that he and his partner had to participate in the raid to get paid, took his pistol, which still had Lieutenant Gillette's initials on it, and took aim at one of the Spaniards in battle. It would have been a difficult shot from a prime marksman, and the older pirate was a far cry from any kind of marksman. It would have been an interesting tale to tell of how Wilson got between Pintel's pistol shot and the targeted Spaniard, who was on a completely different side of the ship (not to mention a different ship than the young man). The buccaneer to his vast chagrin was left behind in Tortuga under the care of five willing strumpets, who were not averse to serving up to his every need.

Pintel, on the other hand, had to spend a week in the brig, and he received no pay from the swag taken. So, he missed out on the trip to Tortuga, not that he had money to spend there, but he had ways of fattening his purse, and he missed out on the brightest nights of the full moon. Not that he was complaining about the latter, but Ragetti got stuck with his tour of duty. Zambrano ended up in the crow's nest, and the tall blonde was to walk the deck over night.

Of course, being the good hearted soul that he was, Sparrow gave Ragetti some of the swag because his meals were mostly edible, and the one eyed pirate was allowed the trip to Tortuga. Now, the tall once mutinous pirate had much business to take care of in this fair city, and such business not only made one of Jack's eyebrows raise, but both of them. Not trusting the once traitorous pirate, Jack followed the scarecrow of a man, when he split off from the main part of the pirate crew and went down a side street. Not seeing anything truly wrong with his actions not being the suspicious type, Ragetti made no effort to hide where he was going or did he look behind his back. So, Jack was totally undetected. The captain stopped dead, when his unwanted crewmember ducked into a dress shop. What was even odder was his return to the said dress shop five days later. He exited the place with a rather large decorative box. Then Jack remembered the man and his partner, when they were under that curse and they were ordered to put on dresses to distract the navy. Jack turned pale. He had been in the occasional dress, but it was nothing he wished to make a habit of, much less buy a new one for himself.

Jack followed Ragetti back to the ship, then to the Faithful Bride, the crew of the Black Pearl's favorite tavern in town. The one eyed man spent several minutes counting his gold pieces, scratching his head, and then counting again. He looked totally confused, but what else was new. Then he purchased two bottles of rum and went back to the ship. Since Jack had other business to attend to in Tortuga, namely Scarlett, Giselle, . . . (He wasn't about to let injuries of battle get in his way, and they could attend to his battle scars. He mustn't disappoint the ladies.), he left his espionage at that.

Now back with Ragetti . . . The tall pirate felt bad for his partner. So, he bought him a bottle of rum, and they drank one down each together in the brig. Since the older man missed out on the five days of entertainment available in a fine town as Tortuga, Ragetti danced the Flamenco Dance for Pintel. Jack could not have thought up a better punishment.

That was five days ago. Ragetti survived his tour of duty on the ship through the night in the dull moonlight. At first he enjoyed the breeze blowing in his face and whipping his hair around, that he had missed out on during his 10 year curse. Then the bright full moon crept out from behind the clouds to shine fully on his frightened form. The once cursed pirate was vastly relieved to look down at his hands illuminated in the bright blue light to see two long flesh covered hands instead of bone claws with clinging rotted flesh and vermin. He let out a long sigh of relief until he heard Jack behind him remark, "Moonlight becomes ya." The tall man jumped three feet in the air, nearly messed his pants, broke two spokes on the stairwell banister and somehow tore one of the sails his startlement. Although it was Jack's fault for scaring his crewmember, the pirate captain had to punish him for hurting his precious Pearl. So, Ragetti ended up pulling a double shift, where the early morning hours entailed him mending the black sail. The one eyed pirate took this all in his usual good natured strive, and Jack got his just punishment when Cotton took over kitchen duty once again, because Ragetti was otherwise occupied.

The mute pirate happily cooked up a special dish for the occasion. He silently and proudly brought forth a great silver platter. He set it down before his captain and tugged at his suspenders. Who needed that one eyed misfit! Jack looked up at the silent man with vast suspicion in his dark eyes, and then he looked back at his platter.

"Dead men tell no tales!" squawked the parrot.

Captain Sparrow felt ice creep up his spine. The rumble of his stomach forced him to pull the lid off the platter to reveal the horror. He quickly put the cover over the finely trimmed with potatoes, carrots, and lettuce roast iguana with an equally roasted rat stuffed in its mouth. He calmly excused himself, walked to the deck, and hurled over the side of the ship.

So, when Ragetti got to return to his normal duties, Jack had learned his lesson, and the punishment for deviation of duty was best left within the galley's confines, and Cotton was best left with the cleaning of the pots and pans. Well, at least the Cayenne Pepper Pie looked appetizing on the surface, and it went down initially well.

So, Ragetti ended up peeling potatoes, and when Pintel came to pay him back in kind for his visitation, the older pirate found a basket of happily peeled smiling potatoes and a huge pile of potato peelings with a pair of bare feet and wiggling toes. The older man frowned, but he couldn't resist. He went over to the perch, where Cotton's parrot happily groomed himself. With frying pan in one hand, the pirate yanked one of the tail feathers free with the other. The bird uttered a line not suitable for mixed company. That was all right, as far as Pintel knew, there was none. Then the bird moved to take a good size chunk from the rather chunky pirate. Pintel smacked the bird with the frying pan. When Cotton returned to the galley with an armful of other vegetables, he puzzled momentarily over the unconscious bird, shrugged and went back to his duty.

Now being appropriately equipped for the task at hand, Pintel took the feather and stroked it lightly across his friend's feet, that moved with the rhythm of the dirty ditty he was humming. The feet stopped and curled up. The pile of potato skins began to giggle, then the feet returned to normal and the humming returned. Pintel blew out an exasperated breath. This would take a bit more effort. He took the feather and twinkled it between the toes and on the tender uncallused arch of the foot. Ragetti only laughed harder. So, Pintel just smacked the top of the pile hard with the heel of his hand. The wooden eye popped out and rolled across the floor to stop at his feet.

The other stopped what he was doing and cried out, "Me Eye!"

The rotund pirate grimaced and deposited the wooden orb in his friend's hand. "Thank ye, 'Enry. Ye be a real pal!"

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, "Ye be a real pal, too, mate." Ragetti continued to smile blankly, as he replaced his wayward eye. "What brings ye 'ere? Want a potato skin? They ain't bad," he exclaimed brightly, as he offered up one of the skins from the floor. When Pintel shook his head in disgust, Ragetti offered him a potato that was carved with the proper curves, that resembled what he had on his mind, and it wasn't hash browns.

Pintel raised an eyebrow, then he held up a hand to deny. "No thank ye, friend. I came by 'cause I were wonderin' if ye be 'avin' any pay left from that swag of last week."

"Yeah, a bit. I be tryin' to save back a bit fer something real special," he answered happily.

"Yeah, yeah. Can I borrow it?"

"Uh . . ."

"There be a big poker game 'night, and ye know 'ow I be at poker."

"Can I play, too?" he asked excitedly.

"Now, Tony, me boy, 'ow good be ye at poker?"

"Well . . . uh . . . "

"Exactly! 'Stella beat ye last time, 'member."  
Ragetti's brow furrowed as he concentrated. He was going to have a major headache from all this thinking! "She beat ya, too."

"Oh, that's drawin' threads, boy. Just suck it in, and fork it o'er!"

The tall pirate sighed and shrugged. He dug in and amongst the piles of peelings to find his bag of coins. With a longing look, he handed over the little bag to his friend. The older pirate poured the contents of the bag into his opened hand. He made some mental calculations and gave himself a headache.

"Is this all ye got left?"

Ragetti shrugged and smiled. "I 'ad things to get . . ."

"Like Tandy, eh. Ye be learnin' well me boy. 'Ope she gave ye yer money's worth!" the other remarked with a wink. The younger man blushed deeply. "Thank ye, mate. Ye won't be regretin' this! Gibbsy be playin' 'night." Then he hopped up the steps to the main decks.

Ragetti sighed and began his clean up of the peels. He felt that was the last he would see of his gold.


End file.
